In the Light of the Red Dawn
by Koury Coving
Summary: Listening to orders was never her strong suit. In fact, she went out of her way to disobey most of the leading figures in her life. So far out of her way that she abandoned her home in search of something more, and nearly died. It was really just her luck that she ended in an ancient wood housing one of the bossiest elves she had ever met. Really, what had she gotten herself into?
1. Chapter 1

In the Light of the Red Dawn

Chapter 1

The circumstance under which she arrived at the inn was anything but pleasant. Just one glimpse at her was enough to tell that she was furious. As she threw the door open to enter into a wooden building, a silence fell upon the merry men inside. Her steel gray eyes took a cursory glance around the tavern before she walked slowly forward to speak to the innkeeper. Gradually the noise level returned to its normal boisterousness as the mortals lost interest in the newcomer. They took no notice of the animal at her side, a wolf that could be mistaken for a common dog if one wasn't looking hard enough. As she approached, the innkeeper hid his unease at her presence with a smile.

"Good evening," he said with as much cheerfulness as he could muster. "Welcome to the Snapping Turtle, my name is Boniface. What can I get for you tonight? We have every type of drink from your heady ale to your delicate red and white wines, if that tickles your fancy."

"One room, one night," the stranger replied stiffly, ignoring his invitation for her to drink. The poison in the alcohol wouldn't affect her anyway. Boniface's smile became one of relief; he didn't want anyone to stir up trouble and though this guest's ears were pointed and she held a delicate air about her that indicated she was an elf, she didn't look to be as peaceful as the stories of the elves from Rivendell he'd heard. Being that the inn was located in an outpost built next to one of the many trails stretching across Eriador and on toward the hidden elven city, many of the elves used to travel that way. His family had lived there long enough to know of some of these elves.

"Alright, that will be three silver, if that's all that you want," he informed the she-elf.

The elf nodded and tossed the coins onto the counter carelessly. The innkeeper replaced the coins with a key and motioned to the back of the room where a staircase led to the upper level of the building.

"Your room is up those stairs and to the left, third door."

The elf grabbed the key and nodded stiffly. She moved to the back of the room to follow Boniface's directions, her wolf remaining loyally at her side. In the furthermost part of the tavern she passed by a solitary man, his face obscured by the shadow that his hood cast over his eyes. She took no heed of him, even as his eyes followed her until she had disappeared. Once in her assigned room she pulled off her cape and threw it onto the bed with a small scowl.

"No matter how many times I reside in a human's quarters I will never get used to the pungent odor or the closeness of the barren walls," she snarled.

"Well, it is the penalty of departing from our home, is it not?" a deep voice asked her. She turned to the black wolf who was sitting just inside the door with a smug look on its face.

"If you do not have anything helpful to say, Ishta, then don't open your drooling mouth," the elf snapped irritably before she began to familiarize herself with the surroundings. Ishta only chuckled with a toothy grin toward her partner.

"You have begun to sound exquisitely like your father, Lorelei," she countered. Lorelei paused in her inspection of the room and turned to glare at the wolf. Calm, purple eyes met her own steel gaze and for a time they stared at each other in a silent battle of wills, until Lorelei turned away with another scowl.

"That might be so, but at the least I do not call for valor while I hide away in my throne room and give encouragement from afar," she mumbled under her breath. Her father was the last creature on Middle-Earth she wanted to be compared to.

"I still think you're judging him too harshly for what he's done," Ishta said, now serious. "He only seeks to-"

"Ishta, if you finish that sentence I will make ready my blade and silence you myself," Lorelei interrupted. "If he worries so much for my well being then he should not have raised me with the desire to protect my people. There isn't a day in which I would stand by and watch someone take the life of a child, and if my father imagines it will threaten my people then he is mistaken_. _The humans have conjured up enough superstitions to keep any threats away from our forest. Stepping out for a moment to end something that should never have been started isn't going to incite a mob of livid farmers with pitchforks to burn down the trees of our forest."

"Do you really believe it is that which troubles him?" Ishta asked with a note of disbelief in her voice.

"It is one of the reasons," Lorelei grumbled under her breath as she turned and flopped on the small twin bed pushed against the back wall, her face pressing into the pillow. Ishta looked at the girl and sighed. Though they were the same age, Lorelei did not have the maturity that Ishta did when it came to her father and Ishta often needed to look out for her. The only problem was that the stubborn elf wouldn't listen to a word she said unless she agreed with her opinion. It wasn't the way they normally worked, and it often frustrated Ishta. Lorelei was one of the smartest, most cunning elves that Ishta had come across. She could talk her way out of many bad situations and she handled the matters of her people with gentle, compassionate words. The two of them worked well together and Ishta couldn't have asked for a better partner. All of that wisdom was lost, however, as soon as Lorelei's father came up to subject.

"Lorelei," Ishta finally said. When the elf didn't answer, the wolf stood and trotted over to the bed. She grabbed hold of the end of Lorelei's braided light brown hair and tugged on it lightly. She said again, "Lorelei."

A sigh came from the elf and she turned to look at her companion with a raised eyebrow.

"However long you run you will have to return and attend to the matter at some point," Ishta said. Lorelei huffed and sat up with frustration.

"I do imagine I've made clear, I am not returning. If that is your wish then _go_."

Ishta narrowed her eyes as she stamped a paw on the wooden floor of the room. "You know very well that can't happen."

"Then stop pestering me about it," Lorelei insisted and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Ishta side-stepped the she-elf as she stood and walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Ishta barked.

"To get a drink and hopefully drown out the sound of your nagging whines," Lorelei said harshly. She opened the door and shut it harder than she intended once she was outside, causing Ishta to flinch a little. It was rare that the two had fights and even rarer that Lorelei got so worked up, but the damage was just too deep. What her father had said and done hurt Lorelei enough to sour her normal quirky attitude for three weeks: the length of their travels outside of their home, a forest called Narmo Rilli that rested just north of Rivendell on the base of the Misty Mountains. Ishta took a deep breath and sighed. Oh, how she longed for the days when Lorelei hadn't any reason to be hurt or angry. She had always been so uplifting and fun to be around that Ishta used to think nothing would ever dampen her spirits. That wasn't the case anymore. She just hoped that the men downstairs knew well enough to mind their own business; there was no telling what Lorelei would do in her state if she was provoked too far.

Lorelei hadn't realized that she wasn't wearing her cape until she was already halfway down the flight of stairs leading to the bottom floor of the tavern. By then she didn't have the motivation to turn around and get it, despite the fact that without her cape all of her weapons were on display for the humans to see. If they hadn't thought she was menacing before, when they saw all of the blades she carried they most certainly would be, at the very least, suspicious. She had a pair of dual swords strapped to her hips that were a cross between elvish and human make. Instead of being curved and elegant like a normal elvish blade, they were shaped in the same way a human's sword would be, although not quite as hefty. The design was thin and caused the blades to cut through the air much quicker than a knight's sword, however it was also strong and meant to deal more powerful blows than simply clean cuts like an elvish weapon. Aside from that, she had a dagger strapped to her right thigh, as well as an almost countless amount of throwing knives and arrows, with which she used to hunt. Her bow was secured around her shoulders. All in all, she had maybe fourteen blades on her person, merely because in a battle she rarely had time to retrieve her weapons if she had to throw them. It could be seen as paranoia, and it probably was, however she found no reason not to have so many weapons. The more the merrier.

When she reached the bottom level of the building she did her best to remain unseen. She chose a seat at the very edge of the bar, where no one was within a five foot radius. It couldn't get much better than that, the tavern was crowded being that it was the only one around for miles on end, and the road it was on was pretty popular. The bar tender noticed her a few moments after she was seated and walked to stand in front of her.

"What do you want?" he asked, not stiff but not exactly friendly either. Lorelei chose to ignore his tone.

"Your strongest," she replied simply. The bar tender raised an eyebrow before he turned around to fetch the purest ale kept in the tavern. He might not have been an expert on elves since they hadn't entered the land for near ten decades, however from what he'd heard it was unlike most elves to consume alcohol made by humans. It was his job to ask questions, but this was one such time he wouldn't. It was obvious there was something on the elf's mind and that was all he really needed to know. He served up the drink and the elf took it with a small huff. She drank slowly, not bothering say anything further although the barkeep was watching her over his shoulder as he catered to the other guests. A while later he made his way over to her again.

"So what's your name?" he asked when she was about halfway done with the drink. Lorelei paused a moment to look into the thick brew and lick her cracked lips before she responded.

"Lorelei," she said softly, "of Narmo Rilli."

"Narmo Rilli?" the bartender asked with a furrowed brow. He had never heard of that kingdom, if it was a kingdom. Although, that wasn't saying much since his knowledge of the elves was very limited.

Lorelei rolled her eyes and took another swig of the ale before responding. "It is better known to humans as Wolfwood."

The reaction she got was exactly as she expected. The bartender paled and did not speak for a long while before he nodded and slowly turned to continue with his job after he mumbled a quiet, "Oh. Well, welcome, Lorelei. Of Narmo Rilli."

With a sour spirit, Lorelei continued to sip the ale she had ordered. She wasn't surprised that the man had neglected to repeat the name given by humans to the forest. Its reputation was almost as high as Rivendell, however for all the wrong reasons. As she sat there, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a reaction she rarely had. Someone was watching her. Was it the bartender? He was directly in her line of vision with his back turned to her, it couldn't be him. Slowly she glanced over her shoulder to the back of the room where the solitary man had been sitting. The feeling went away as soon as she did, and she realized that the man was no longer occupying the small table. She narrowed her eyes, wondering where he had gone, before she turned around once again to find the eyes of many other men on her. When they saw her look at them they immediately went back to whatever conversations they had previously been having, and she sighed. Already she knew that she was not welcome there any longer. She would stay the night and then leave at first dawn, as was often her routine.

She took one last sip of her drink before placing a few bronze coins next to it and returning to her room. She didn't fancy being hated wherever she went simply because of her home, however it was not in her nature to hide her identity. It was either come up with an ill-suited alias or deal with the harsh glares and suspicious murmurs that would follow in her wake. She would rather take the second option, even though she wouldn't have such inconsiderate treatment if she kept the fact secret that she came from the "cursed" Wolf Wood. Lorelei entered her room to find Ishta casually lying down on the bed with one paw crossed over the other and her ears perked and alert.

"How did it go?" she asked knowingly. Lorelei didn't bother to answer the question, deciding instead to remove the weapons strapped to her so that she might sleep comfortably. Ishta watched silently with a small smirk that the elf still chose to ignore. When all of the weapons she had were resting on one of the wooden dressers close to the bed, she removed her boots, belt, and outer layer of clothing.

"We must make way at dawn," she said to Ishta once the green and brown leather layer of clothing was resting on top of her weapons. Ishta tilted her head to the side questioningly as Lorelei sat down on the bed while expertly undoing the tangled braid her hair had been in.

"I take it then that it didn't go accordingly," she replied. Lorelei stretched out as far as she could on the mattress, her waves of hair spread out underneath her, and looked at the wolf.

"Narmo Rilli's name is soiled by the superstitions the humans have of it. One mention of it and I'm looked at as though I'm Sauron himself."

"I highly doubt they still know of him," Ishta pointed out. Lorelei looked at the ceiling and placed her hands behind her head.

"Whether they do or do not is no concern of mine," she grumbled. "The point is I don't believe we can continue on in the name of our home, the very thing I am proud of in me."

Ishta sighed and placed her head on her paws. "Are you proud of nothing else?" she asked quietly. Lorelei's father had made sure to let his daughter know that he wasn't happy about a single thing in her, and it rubbed off much too easily for Ishta's liking. Lorelei didn't reply, but instead mumbled a small word under her breath. The candles previously aglow were then snuffed out; a bit of magic she had learned. She didn't learn nearly as much as she should have, however, being that it was her father who wanted her to learn it in the first place. She refused to listen to any lessons he had tried to teach her, and instead decided to learn on her own by reading books; a very slow process. Nevertheless, she kept at it and Ishta was even surprised at her progress, considering she had only just begun to delve into the ancient texts. She was still at a beginner's level, but she wasn't much of a mage in the first place. Her training with a sword presided over all else, especially due to the fact that her father had forbidden it.

Ishta quietly huffed to herself; it always came back to her father. Every little thing Lorelei decided to do was an act of defiance against his controlling bonds. From what she'd heard from other elves in the palace, Lorelei was much like her mother, always a free spirit. Perhaps that was why her father worried so much. If only she could make the girl see that; then this silly adventure would be over and put behind them. There was a reason the wolfkin and their wolves remained hidden in the forest, and Ishta knew all too well of it. Sadly, Lorelei would not listen and she had no choice but to follow the elf lest she get herself killed. Fate be with them, she hoped they survived long enough for Lorelei to realize her mistakes and return home before it was too late.

xxXxx

When the first rays of the golden sun danced across her face, Lorelei's slate eyes stretched wide open and she slowly pushed herself to sit up straight. Ishta's eyes opened as well when she sensed that her companion was awake.

"It is late," she observed. Lorelei simply nodded and swung her legs around so that they were dangling over the edge of the bed.

"A side effect of the ale, I presume," she mumbled, although she knew it was very unlikely. She had been exhausted recently and desired nothing more than to sleep until noon before she continued on her journey. It was a strange feeling to her, since she was not only an elf but also a proud wolfkin who hunted often in the late hours of the night. She hoped the feeling, wherever it originated from, would disappear soon. She wasn't ready to bring her expedition to a halt for any reason so pitiful as "I am tired."

With a deep breath she stood and walked over to where she had laid all of her clothes. She hastily pulled them on, readied all of her weapons, and deftly redid the braid in her hair; she still wanted to leave the town as fast as possible, lest she overstay her welcome. Ishta arched her back in a long stretch before she jumped down to the floor, her sharp claws clicking on the wood. Without need for any more communication, the two left the room and moved quickly and quietly through the inn to the exit. The tavern was relatively quiet because, while it was past dawn, the men had stayed up late into the night filling their bellies with thick, bubbly ale and were likely bedridden with a nasty hangover. For once, Lorelei was quite glad that the alcohol of men had no effect on her.

Outside, the sun was shining warmly, betraying the winter season that was only just coming to a close. Over the past three weeks, Lorelei and Ishta traveled in pouring rain or dreary fog that often disheartened them from continuing, but this new promise of spring caused Lorelei to pause in her hurry and take a deep breath of the sweet air. It was different and unfamiliar, however she did not miss the stuffy smell of the always-green pines surrounding her home. They were beautiful, there was no criticism of the trees in Lorelei's mind, however being trapped there for near seven hundred years was… undesirable.

After taking in the splendor of the morning, Lorelei turned to continue on through the roadside town and came across the very man from the tavern that had sat cloaked in shadow. He was talking in low tones with another man that wore the same cloth as he. He didn't seem to take notice of her so she covered her head with her hood and walked by him, calculating him out of the corner of her eye with curiosity. He wasn't anything too impressive, but she sensed something in him that most probably did not see. His near black hair reached his shoulders in waves similar to her own and his eyes, though they were of the purest blue, seemed dark and mysterious. His clothes were worn and he looked to her a tattered ranger of the North; quiet dignity and command seemed to settle about him. Lorelei wasn't sure who he could be, and she was inclined to keep it that way. His presence unsettled her.

The town was much longer than Lorelei had first thought and it took near fifteen minutes to reach the outskirts of it. Ishta had been silent the whole time, but now that they had less chance of being heard she spoke.

"Do you even know the way?" she asked.

"Of course," Lorelei scoffed. Ishta gave her one look and knew that she was lying. Lorelei sighed and admitted, "I haven't the slightest idea once we pass through the mountains and on to Lothlórien."

Ishta looked up at her incredulously. "If we're supposed to travel _through_ the mountains to Lothlórien then why are we wandering alongside them?"

"Because Rivendell is no friend of ours," Lorelei explained. "Father will be expecting us to head straight toward Greenwood rather than skirting around Rivendell to the southernmost part of the Misty Mountains. If we want to remain hidden to my Father's eye then it is the better route, albeit it is considerably longer."

Ishta sniffed. "Considerably longer, indeed. If we had gone through the mountain in the first place-"

"Father's warriors would be right on our heels," Lorelei interrupted. "If we do not bide our time then surely they would find us, and I will, very regrettably, have to ensure my passage. I would continue on to our woodland allies with the blood of my people on my blade if need be."

Ishta chuckled light-heartedly, knowing full well Lorelei would never raise a hand against her people unless given legitimate reason. "There is no stopping you, is there?" she asked sarcastically. Lorelei smiled and was about to respond when a subtle smell drifted past her on a light breeze. She stopped in alarm and her eyes wandered through the trees on the west side of the road.

"On the wind… can you smell it?" she asked Ishta who paused and lifted her nose to the air. It took only one whiff for the wolf to lower her head and raise her hackles with a low growl.

"Human blood," she confirmed Lorelei's suspicions. Lorelei might have an enhanced sense of smell due to her Wolfkin heritage, however she still could not match the senses of a true Eshán wolf. With haste, Ishta trotted through the thick brush of the forest, Lorelei on her heels. The smell emanated from a small clearing where a solitary house sat, its door ajar and smoke gently lifting into the air from the chimney.

Lorelei took the lead and unsheathed one of her swords slowly so as not to alert anyone who could be an enemy, and crept up to the house silently. She peered through the cracked door and found a hulking figure slowly, painfully slide its sword out of a middle-aged man that lay on the floor. The man groaned in agony at the torture and mumbled wishes to die, but the figure standing over him only hissed darkly.

"You're not cooperating well, Muzrad," it said in a scratchy voice. Upon further inspection Lorelei decided that it was an orc, however she could not distinguish its features. "Your end will not come until you tell me where you've hidden it."

"No, please," Muzrad said feebly. "I swear to you I do not know. I wasn't the one who-!"

"Shh," the orc hushed him and put a finger to his mouth. "We would not want your precious son and wife to hear you, would we? Quiet now. And _don't _lie to me."

Muzrad sobbed and shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered, "I don't- agh!"

Lorelei flinched and looked away as the orc's sword once again pierced through the man in a different spot. She hadn't wanted to intervene for fear that the orc would kill its victim as soon as he saw her, but if the orc wanted information then surely he would not risk any vital organs. The only way to save the man was to catch the orc by surprise. Beside her, Ishta shifted ever so slightly and looked up at her expectantly. Lorelei motioned to the back side of the house where there, no doubt, lay a second entrance, and Ishta made way around the building at once to catch the orc if he tried to run. Sword in hand, Lorelei slowly pushed the front door open to hopefully get inside undetected, but the old hinges complained loudly and gave away her move. She froze, barely able to open the door an inch, as the orc snorted with alarm and looked her way. She ducked away from the opening so as not to be seen, but she was sure the orc would come anyway to see what had made the noise.

There was a sickening _shink_ and cry of pain as the orc removed its sword from poor Muzrad and advanced toward the front door. Lorelei tensed in anticipation and waited for the door to swing open and the orc to stomp out with an angry growl. A few moments later, however, nothing happened. The orc's heavy footsteps stopped and its animalistic breathing seemed far away. Carefully and deliberately, Lorelei leaned forward to once again peer through the crack in the door, and her eyes were met with dark, snake-like slits surrounded by grotesque green skin.

"Found you, elfling," the orc said, spilling its rancid breath over her. Quick on her feet, Lorelei leaped backwards out of range just as the orc thrust its way through the door, effectively breaking one of the hinges. Before Lorelei could recover, its blade sailed through the air in a hefty chop that would have cleaved her in half, but she blocked it just in time. Her knees bent underneath her due to the creature's brute force and she had to roll to the side to avoid being crushed. With a laugh the orc again swung its blade and, still crouched on the ground, Lorelei lifted her sword to block the blow and ended up skidding a few inches across the soft grass. Lorelei pushed her lips back into a snarl and threw all of her strength against the orc's blade to knock him off balance. It wasn't as effective as she'd have hoped, but it was good enough. Her strength had surprised the orc and with her speed she was able to glance a cut off of its sword arm, however the cut wasn't too deep. The orc howled with rage and advanced, swinging blow after frenzied blow. It was all Lorelei could do to stop its sword from reaching her. In the open her skills seemed rusty, at best. She was not used to fighting without the tall redwoods of her homeland surrounding her, giving her leverage.

From the corner of her eye, she saw black fur streak across the field toward the orc, whose concentration was still fully on the elf in front of him. With a savage snarl, Ishta leapt into the air and pinned the orc and its sword under her gigantic paws. A skill all of the Eshán wolves had, she had enlarged her body to be proportional to the size of a horse. While outside of Narmo Rilli it only lasted for a short while, it was still a useful advantage in battle as long as it wasn't too drawn out.

"You took your time," Lorelei mumbled under her breath, although she was a little disappointed that she was not the one to slay the orc.

Ishta looked up at her with a smirk. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Lorelei glared and turned her head away. "Do not mock me," she growled. She would never kill an enemy that she did not bring to its knees first. Ishta chuckled, her voice now even deeper than what it had been before. The orc howled with rage and squirmed to get loose, but Ishta's sheer weight made it impossible. As Ishta bent her head and opened her mouth to reveal massive fangs, the pounding of lumbering paws drew Lorelei's attention and she looked up to see a bulky gray beast thundering towards Ishta.

"Ishta, Warg!" Lorelei shouted urgently. Ishta looked up just in time to be pummeled by the twisted, wolf-like creature often used as a mount for the orcs. The two wrestled on the ground with ferocious snarling and the occasional yelp of pain. Lorelei took a step forward to help her companion, but the air next to her stirred and she whirled around, only just able to block another one of the orc's blows. He had jumped to his feet so fast, like he knew exactly what was going to happen. How long had the Warg escaped her notice? The orc again laughed with enjoyment as it once more began dealing blows quicker than Lorelei had seen any orc make. They remained locked in an even battle for too long a time for Lorelei, and her shoulders and face stung from the wounds Ishta was receiving. One of their weaknesses, they could feel each other's pain. However, they also shared in each other's strength. With a surge of power and agility, Lorelei knocked the orc's sword aside and it flew twenty paces through the air before landing in the dirt. With triumph in her eyes she swung her sword again just as the orc barked out something in its own language that quite possibly could have been an insult. Lorelei's sword cut a deep gash in its side and it howled, crumpling over in pain. Lorelei stepped forward to finish him off, but a call from Ishta resounded in her ears.

"Lorelei, get back!"

Lorelei didn't even have to look to sense the Warg charging toward her, and deftly she sprung backwards and bent her back so that her hands touched the ground, then pushed off of it as she brought her feet back over her head to land gracefully several yards away. With her enhanced strength she was able to avoid the Warg, who simply continued to run past her. The orc jumped on its back as it sprinted away and Ishta began to follow.

"Ishta, stay your feet!" Lorelei yelled. "He will be dead before the morning."

Ishta slowed to a stop and looked resentfully at the Warg and its master, but obeyed Lorelei and followed her as she jogged toward the house. Along the way, Ishta returned to her normal size and Lorelei's reassuring strength waned. Weariness set in, thanks to her large output of energy when Ishta had turned, but still Lorelei needed to check on Muzrad. In all likeliness he had already bled out on the floor, but she had to be sure. If he was alive she did not want to leave him in such a state.

As soon as Lorelei walked through the door, an alarming groan sounded from the man. He was alive, but not for long. Perhaps she could save him. As she knelt next to him her sword clattered to the ground and she addressed his wounds with worried eyes. He had been stabbed several times in each arm, and twice on his left shoulder. Even if he did survive, it wasn't likely that he would be able to continue his farm work to provide for his family.

"Help me," the man pleaded weakly. Lorelei hushed him and placed a gentle hand on his left shoulder. She closed her eyes and tried hard to remember the healing spell she had read about. The words came slowly at first, but as she continued her memory returned. When she was done reciting the spell she looked down at the man whose expression seemed relieved. A sigh of reprieve escaped her lips, but it was too soon. Again, a moan sounded in Muzrad's throat and the bleeding of his wounds did not stop. Lorelei cursed under her breath and tried again, but it only seemed to alleviate the man's pain for a few moments. Just when she was about to try a third time, the man grabbed her arm with urgency in his dull eyes.

"Lady Elf," he rasped, "please hear me and tell my son to find what the orc wanted from me."

Lorelei paused, well aware that if she listened to the man's words he would be dead. But could she really help him if she'd already tried the spell twice with no results? She nodded her promise and the man coughed weakly before continuing.

"_The blood whistles in the mist, and upon her back the sun brings new hope. _

"_Warrior, warrior, light the way ahead. _

"_Bring peace to the nightingales, black with sin's dark dread. _

"_The gnarled root, the view of past glories and future tales." _

A grinding cough racked through his body and Lorelei held his hand to give him comfort and a little stability.

"_Just north of the Great Mine, just south of the peace unclouded by tradition's veils. _

"_Warrior, Warrior, blow your trumpet and lay waste to your enemies like kindling on fire." _Muzrad again stopped and his eyelids drooped heavily over his brown eyes. Lorelei thought he was gone, but he continued to mutter the last verse under his breath.

"_The battle won, victory done, come only again when the need is dire."_

Lorelei couldn't believe that the man had held on long enough to recite that whole passage, but his last few words were hardly more than a whisper and she might not have heard it if she were not Wolfkin. She stared with disbelief at the man who had just given her what was probably his most treasured secret in his last breath. What tale had she just stumbled into? And why didn't that spell work! A tear threatened to trickle down her cheek as she reached forward to close Muzrad's eyes and give him peace. Though she might not have known him, death to the innocent was not an event she enjoyed to witness. She realized she was still holding onto his hand, so she laid it across his chest and slowly got to her feet, her sword now in her grasp. Ishta looked up at her, confusion in her eyes.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

Lorelei for the life of her did not know. What was that poem even supposed to lead her to? Blood whistling in the mist, peace to the nightingales black with sin's dark dread? What kind of verse was that?

Before Lorelei could answer Ishta's question, a loud bang came from the door that sounded like something had been dropped onto the floor. Lorelei turned and looked at the entrance of the house to see a woman, most likely the wife of the fallen Muzrad, and a basket of apples overturned by her feet. Sooner than Lorelei could explain the situation, a fearful scream rose out of the woman's throat and she ran outside. Lorelei walked forward in hopes to stop the frightened woman before she attracted unnecessary attention, but she was blocked when a young man, the son she guessed, stepped through the doorframe. Lorelei stood frozen on the spot, trying not to look too guilty as the boy's eyes went from her, to her sword, down to his father, and then back at her again.

"This isn't exactly an opportune moment, however I must refer to saying that what you see is not what it looks," Lorelei tried to explain calmly.

"Not what it looks like?" the son suddenly bellowed out in anger. Lorelei realized just how dark it was in the room and how the blood on her sword could easily be mistaken for Muzrad's, but she wasn't given any more time as the boy grabbed a fire iron hanging next to the door and advanced toward her.

"Murderous wolf-demon," he spat as he lifted the iron and swung it toward her.

"Wolf-demon?" Lorelei asked with offense laced in her voice as she easily blocked the blow. She might have been Wolfkin, but she was no demon! However, she doubted she would be able to tell the boy in front of her, blinded as he was by his rage. He had probably heard in town of who she was and the fact that she was a suspicious outsider with an immeasurable amount of superstitions clouding about her home did not help her case.

The young man continued to hack away at her and she matched his every blow, but she refused to harm him. Beside her, Ishta growled and raised her hackles, annoyed at the human's rash behavior.

"Bite your tongue, Ishta," Lorelei warned. Ishta's growl lessened and her hackles fell, but she dug her claws into the floor with frustration. Was Lorelei going to let him overpower her without putting up a fight? She saw how easily she was deflecting his attacks, however, and moved to the side of the room to be out of the way.

"Die, foul beast," Muzrad's son hissed as he continued to deal untrained blows at Lorelei's sword. She was about to say something to him when a figure in the doorframe caught her attention. For the split second she took to look at it she could tell that it was the Ranger, and that was enough to distract her for the right amount of time to be kept off guard. The son knocked her sword out of her hand and swept her feet out from under her. As she landed with a painful thud he lifted the iron above him to end her life, but the Ranger was quick enough to grab his arm and pull him back. The young man cursed Lorelei's savior and once again tried to advance, but the Ranger placed his hand on his chest and prevented him from doing so.

"You're making a mistake, my friend," he said, his voice deep and calming. It didn't seem to have any effect.

"That swine killed my father!" he yelled and shoved the Ranger aside. Lorelei scooted backwards and got ready to spring to her feet, but the Ranger grabbed the man's shoulder.

"That's enough," he said sternly. Muzrad's son glared at the Ranger, but something in the Ranger's eyes seemed to calm him down, at least enough to listen. "What is your name?" the Ranger asked.

"Gleothen," he replied with an uneasy glance in Lorelei's direction.

"Well then, Gleothen," the Ranger continued, "did you even bother to ask her story of what happened?"

Gleothen spat on the ground as he regarded Lorelei with both ice and fire at the same time, if that was possible. "I will hear no story from a malicious, shadow-loving, blood-sucking-"

At the growing look of anger on Lorelei's face, the Ranger stayed Gleothen's words. "The fact that you don't know her does not mean she is evil," he assured. He looked at Lorelei for a brief moment before bending down and retrieving her sword. "Look," he said to Gleothen, "the blood on her blade is not nearly enough to cause so many wounds, and it is black, not red."

Gleothen looked at the blade and slowly the hate-caused trance seemed to fade from his eyes. The Ranger wiped the sword on his trousers before holding it out to Lorelei who looked up at him with contempt and grabbed it forcefully. She sheathed it as she stood and narrowed her eyes at the stranger.

"I requested no help from you," she huffed.

"No, but you needed it," the Ranger replied calmly, impervious to her threatening tone. With that comment her glare became sharper and she moved to go around him and take her leave of the place, but Gleothen's voice stopped her.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, his anger now subsided into grief. Lorelei paused and debated whether or not to tell the boy the truth, but she knew Muzrad's wounds were evidence enough to disprove any excuse she could come up with.

"An orc was here," she replied, "standing over Muzrad. He wanted something, and was torturing him for it. I arrived and distracted the orc, but by the time I had succeeded Muzrad's wounds were too many to heal. I tried what magic I know to save his life but…" she trailed off and looked toward the floor.

"If what you say is true, I owe you a great service," Gleothen said, his voice quiet but steady.

Immediately Lorelei shook her head. "You require what you have to live," she said, "Ishta and I can survive on our own, you owe us nothing."

Both Gleothen and the Ranger looked surprised, but a moment later Gleothen's resolve to give Lorelei something once again showed on his face.

"I cannot let you leave without some sort of recompense," he insisted.

Lorelei again shook her head. "I merely happened to pass by," she said. "I ask for nothing. However, before I leave, I have a message requested to give to you from your father."

Gleothen looked at her with astonishment, as though he didn't think his father would think of him at all in his last moments. "What is it?"

Lorelei did her best to recite the poem exactly as she heard it, although she was pretty sure she had a few wrong words here and there. At the least she got the general message correct. When she was finished, Gleothen seemed confused, if anything.

"Muzrad believed that whatever the orc was seeking had something to do with that verse," Lorelei tried to jog Gleothen's memory. The boy just furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"That sounds as though it describes some sort of ancient treasure or weapon," he replied, "but Father has nothing of the sort."

"But he does," a sudden voice said from the door frame. A woman stood there, the one who had dropped the basket of apples to the floor. Her eyes were swollen with tears and she still carried some of the terror from when she had first seen Muzrad. Slowly, she walked forward and the Ranger stepped to the side so she could be with her husband again. As she slowly sunk to her knees next to him, she said softly, "Blood Whistler."

Lorelei's breath halted in her throat at the mention of the renowned blade. It was legendary, even she knew about it though she was not alive in the time it had been made famous amongst her people. An elf named Yaban Gizik, translated to English as Wild Storm, wielded Blood Whistler in the time of the Great Journey: the period in which her people moved from land to land, looking for a home. He wasn't a king, but rather a strong protector of his people as they traveled. In legend he killed any threat that came to them, and during battle when his sword touched blood it was said to whistle through the air, hence the name Blood Whistler. While Yaban might not have been famous in any other race, his name was sacred to the Wolfkin of Narmo Rilli, but his sword was lost to the ages. It was said only one person knew the whereabouts of his sword, but it was never known who. Now, however, Lorelei happened upon an opportunity that might yet show her father what she was made of. If she could get her hands on that sword…

"Perhaps payment might suffice after all," she said finally, looking to Gleothen.

Gleothen nodded. "Anything you wish."

"If I find Blood Whistler, may I call it mine?"

Gleothen furrowed his brow, still pondering the significance of the title. "Well, yes," he said, "however I don't see the importance."

Lorelei offered a small smile. "There are few who do. I do not know where your father might have come across the whereabouts of the sword, but I don't think it was just chance that I came here."

The mother looked up from where she had been holding Muzrad's hand and stared at Lorelei. "You are an elf from Rhûn?"

"In essence, all elves are from Rhûn, just as well as all men are," Lorelei explained, "however my people were one of the last to come here."

The mother nodded. "I see," she said. "In that case you are welcome in our home."

Lorelei smiled and nodded her thanks. If Gleothen hadn't looked confused before, he did now.

"Mother," he began, but was stayed by her hand.

"There isn't much to tell you in company, son," she said. "Our purpose is fulfilled."

Gleothen just stared at her and Lorelei again smiled.

"I believe this is something best shared on your own," she said. "I thank you for your hospitality, however the time has come to take my leave."

The mother nodded and hastily stood. She offered the formal goodbye elves often exchanged, a bow of the head and a hand moving from the heart outward. Lorelei repeated the motion, and was quite surprised to notice that the Ranger beside her did as well. She did not ask him about it, however, and simply turned and left the house, her mind buzzing with the news she just learned. All she had to do was figure out the poem, no doubt a riddle, and Blood Whistler would be in her grasp.

Beside her Ishta trotted, and the Ranger followed. Lorelei ignored the Ranger and continued on her way quickly. She had been held up by the orc, but she did not want to fall behind or her father's men might catch up to her. She had been gone for more than three weeks, after all. It was likely the warriors had already been to Greenwood, and quite possibly already returned to her father, if they were traveling with haste. Considering she was the daughter of the king, it wasn't outrageous to say that they were.

Behind her, the ranger continued to trudge along. Obviously he had been traveling the same way as her before, otherwise he wouldn't have passed the small farm, but Lorelei did not want him to be behind her the whole way so she opted not to return to the main road as she figured he would. After quite a few minutes of silence, Lorelei glanced over her shoulder and, to her annoyance, she found that the Ranger was still there.

"He does not relent," she growled down to Ishta who simply smiled.

"Perhaps he thought that since he saved you he'd get a little something?"

Lorelei looked down at the wolf with disgust, knowing very well what she was referring to. "That would be what I would expect from a foolish child, but he is no fool nor is he so young amongst his people that he would try that," she snapped and sped up in her walking. Again she looked behind her and cursed under her breath. He was _still _following her.

"Calm down, Lorelei," Ishta interrupted her thoughts. "He's probably just heading in the same direction. In a little while he'll turn off to the side and you'll never see him again."

It seemed likely at the time. An hour later, however, and he was still right behind the unlikely duo. Finally, Lorelei stopped and turned around to face the Ranger.

"Is there reason in which you trail me?" she asked through slightly clenched teeth. The Ranger responded patiently and quietly as though Lorelei was simply a child throwing a temper-tantrum. That only served to irritate her more, considering she had probably lived twenty of his life times, at the very least.

"I'm not following you," he said. "I just happen to be traveling in the same direction."

"You can go around me or take a different route," Lorelei pointed out. "You don't have to walk in my footsteps."

"And have another orc attack you?" he asked with a small smile. Lorelei narrowed her eyes and again turned around to go on to where she was headed. It wasn't much of a surprise when she heard the Ranger again begin to walk behind her. She did her best on tuning out his surprisingly light footsteps, and it worked. After but a few moments of concentration all Lorelei heard was Ishta's quiet paw steps at her side and the birds singing heartily of the new spring. The sun was rising to its peak but the shade of the trees kept the air cool. A breeze from the mountain succeeded in chilling the small forest, pulling the temperature down even more.

"So," the Ranger finally interrupted her concentration; she had wondered when he would speak. "You're from Narmo Rilli?"

Lorelei did not face the Ranger as she replied, "Perhaps."

"You're not going to reveal anything, are you?"

"Certainly not."

The Ranger smiled at her bluntness. "Then I suppose it will be me first. I'll give you my name and you'll give me yours."

Lorelei paused. "If you know where I hail from then you know my name," she said.

"I know what you told the barkeeper," the Ranger replied. Lorelei again remained silent. Would this be the time to choose an alias? Perhaps if she did she would be in less danger of being found.

"The name I gave him was correct," Lorelei finally said. In her experience deceiving only led to more deceiving, and she did not want to spin herself into a web of lies. Besides, none knew of her, she had never before ventured out of the forest alone. It was unlikely she would come to any harm from it.

The Ranger behind her nodded and said, "It is good to meet you then, Lorelei. Many people call me Strider."

* * *

_(A/N): Well~ This is a co-op fanfic that I am doing with Gael Drake, she is awesome. Although she hasn't posted any stories yet... So don't try to look at her stories because they are nonexistent online so far.. She will post soon. Lol, I made her get the account a few weeks ago so she's not very far yet. X3 BACK TO IMPORTANCE. Hope you liked the chapie and you should tell us how we did so that we can actually finish the second chapter. (It's started, promise. We just haven't finished.) The review box is empty. Make it unempty. Please~_

_-KC & GD_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Strider," Lorelei repeated his name and a half-smile crept on her face. That was an alias if she ever heard one. "Very well, if you so wish."

They continued on in silence – neither wishing nor needing to say any more. The way was peaceful, quiet, and though no words were spoken the group felt comfort in the unsaid companionship. At least, as much as could be had with a Ranger and an elf, both of which were hunted. They found no trust in each other's words as of yet; their meeting was still too new, but it was in Strider's line of work to keep watch the wilds of Eriador, and he wasn't sure whether Lorelei meant harm or good, or was simply passing through. It had been a while since he left the company of Gandalf, and so forth no word had been received of the hobbit the old wizard was so interested in. That was well and good, but all the same when an elf left the safety of her hidden wood there was reason behind it. He needed to know for what reason, and so possibly prevent an end of Gandalf's plan from coming loose.

He could not find out anything without the elf's trust, however, so he kept quiet and only followed in her wake. As far as he could tell she was making way past Rivendell, but there were many things beyond that she could be heading toward. She could even turn in the direction of the hidden elven city at any time if she truly wanted.

The way was easy enough, as far as the wilderness goes, and the weather was fair. All around new plants were springing up and old ones were beginning to regain their vigor that the harsh winter had stripped bare. The sun shone through the trees and soon the cold of the morning was burned away. The birds sang sweetly and a cool breeze continued to blow down from the mountains, the leaves on the branches swaying and whispering to the travelers.

Strider was relatively surprised that the elf hadn't tried to ward him off as of yet: she did not seem entirely welcoming. In fact, when the time came around for lunch, they took their bows out and worked together to take down a small deer. Strider was not astonished to find out Lorelei's skill with a bow, considering she was close to Rivendell's woodland kin – Legolas and his people – but he was surprised she let him share the kill. They split the meal, without many words. Strider was content to study Lorelei, and she would speak quietly, he presumed to her wolf which was contentedly chomping on the uncooked venison left over from the deer. They both seemed harmless enough, although he couldn't understand what they were speaking about. Lorelei talked in a tongue akin to the Ancient language, but less elegant somehow; more down to earth and dark, like a wolf. Ishta would respond in what seemed like wordless grunts, but Lorelei would smile or frown as though she knew exactly what Ishta was saying.

Now, Strider knew a good deal about animals; he could understand their feelings and often knew what they wanted or needed. He could not, however, carry on an informative conversation like Lorelei was. He had heard of how a wolfkin always traveled with a wolf, but he did not assume that they could speak so easily with the creatures. He wondered if she could speak to all kinds of animals, or just the wolf partnered to her.

The sun was just falling from its peak when the wanderers packed up and once again headed out on the road. It remained mostly quiet as it had earlier, but Strider was done waiting. He figured the only way to accomplish what he wanted, he would have to speak. It was clear that Lorelei wouldn't be the one to have a word first; she was content to speak in her own language with Ishta and snicker about hidden jokes. She also often glanced at him when she thought he wasn't looking, and she would murmur in low tones to which the wolf either scorned her or agreed with her, as far as he could tell.

"So where exactly is it that you are going?" he asked finally. Lorelei glanced at him and seemed to debate whether she should tell him or not, but decided that she would anyway. Sort of.

"Just north of the great Mine and just south of the peace unclouded by tradition's veils," she recited one of the lines of the poem Muzrad had told her. Strider looked at her with a raised eyebrow and noticed the small smirk she wore. He huffed and shook his head.

"Even after sharing a meal you still don't think you can tell me where you're headed?" he asked.

Lorelei looked at him inquisitively. "Would you not do the same if you were approached and followed by a strange man whom you've never seen before?"

"I did save your life," Strider pointed out.

"For what reason?"

Strider paused and returned his focus to the forest in front of him. "Point taken," he said, accepting defeat for the moment. That seemed to be it for their conversation for another few hours. In that time, Strider had the mind to think about the verse. There weren't many mines that could be considered "great" so he could narrow it down to a few; however the second part stumped him. "Peace unclouded by tradition's veils." Apparently wherever the sword was, it was in between this peace and the mine.

The Lonely Mountain held such one of these mines, but north of it, where the peace presumably was, laid the Withered Heath. That was as least of a peaceful place as there ever was. It was a breeding ground for dragons, and where Smaug had originated from. He highly doubted this was where the poem was leading. Another great mine, though not in this age, was Belegost. North of it, however, was the Gulf of Lhûn that was created in a time of war. That ruled Belegost out as well. There were many other great mines, but one suddenly came to Strider that made him feel foolish. Why didn't he think of it in the first place? The mines of Moria, which were considered great though no longer functioning, had one such peaceful area to the north of it. Eregion was an elven city that kept close relations to the dwarves of Moria because of how close they were together. The elves ignored "tradition" and refused to reject the dwarves like many of their kin chose to do in the past. It seemed the most logical area to search, even if it was destroyed in the war between the elves and Sauron, and he was sure that was where Lorelei was headed. He decided to voice his thoughts, if only to gain a little respect from the suspicious elf.

"North of Moria," he said with a glance in her direction, "and south of Eregion."

Lorelei looked at him without hiding her surprise; Eregion had been nonexistent for a very long while. Even from before her time.

"You don't seem the type to study history or geography," she mused.

Strider smiled. "No?" he asked inquisitively.

Lorelei mirrored his smile, _very_ minutely, and answered, "No."

Strider continued on at an easy pace and kept his eyes forward. He didn't offer up anything else: he figured that if the elf wanted to know she would ask. Whether or not he would answer was entirely up to the questions she posed. At the least she seemed a little more at ease in his presence; over the past few hours her mutterings to the wolf had grown few and far between. While she wouldn't trust him with anything important, she didn't seem so guarded and condescending which, to a wanderer who was always used to suspicion and distrust everywhere without any relief, was refreshing. It wasn't always that he spent long periods of time with anyone in the first place, but elves were always much easier to be around than the likes of men or dwarves. They were less quick to anger and more comfortable with silence.

Suddenly, Strider was aware that Lorelei had disappeared from his side. He paused and turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows; she and Ishta had stopped and seemed to be listening to something. It was twilight now, and the sun cast long shadows over the forest floor. An orange light crowned the elf and shadowed her face so he couldn't make out the expression she carried. After a few moments she again walked forward, Ishta hesitating for a moment before following. Strider watched her until she neared him and then walked alongside her. He didn't ask what was wrong and she offered no explanation right away. She remained silent for a little while, her eyes flicking back and forth around the dense trees. She was waiting, watching.

"We're being followed," she finally said so quietly that Strider had a hard time making out the words. He didn't need to, however, for he had suspected it by her actions.

"How many?" he asked in a voice just as soft.

"Seven, surrounding us in a tightening circle," a deep growl resounded from just next to Lorelei. Strider looked down at Ishta with astonishment – he hadn't expected that she could actually speak human tongues – but he made no further reaction. He looked forward and nodded. They continued to walk, to give the impression that they didn't suspect, but Strider's hand was held close to the hilt of his blade in anticipation. The tenseness that had earlier melted away was back in Lorelei's shoulders, and Ishta trotted with her head down and her ears pricked as though stalking prey. A twig snapped somewhere to their left and Strider searched the trees for any sign of a person moving amongst the shadows. There was no one, however, and the silence succeeded in making the small group uneasy. Whoever was following them was obviously waiting for something and it unsettled Strider.

"They might be waiting to ambush us with reinforcements further ahead," he muttered quietly to Lorelei. The elf glanced at him then looked forward intensely. She didn't answer for a time, but when she did Strider relaxed.

"I can see nothing in front of us," she said. Although her voice was quiet, it seemed loud in the eerie silence between the dwindling trees; not even the birds were singing. "I doubt they will wait until we're in the open to come out."

She didn't need to tell him to keep on the ready, he knew well enough what to do. Had she not been concentrating on pinpointing every man following them, she would appreciate Strider's calm demeanor. He gave nothing away and he did not risk being swarmed by suddenly pulling out his sword as many others may have done had they been in his position. It was another ten minutes before finally Lorelei found what she was seeking. It was subtle, but a very deadly mistake. She saw a shadow pass to her right; whoever was there had strayed too close. She turned toward the shadow and whipped out one of the many hidden blades she kept in the folds of her clothes. It flew from her hand in an instant and there was a muffled cry as it struck home. She sprinted toward the man whom she hit, in the leg so as not to kill him, and held her sword now unsheathed to his neck. Strider behind her seemed a little startled at the suddenness of her move, but followed and unsheathed his sword. The group surrounded the man, a bandit from the looks of him. Strider and Ishta kept an eye out for any more while Lorelei questioned him.

"Who are you?" she asked with a piercing glare.

He refused to speak and met her gaze without flinching. Just as Lorelei was about to question him again, she felt a stir in the air and pulled her head back quickly. In front of her, not two inches from her face, an arrow lodged itself in a tree. Lorelei cursed under her breath and yanked the man to his feet. She held him captive with the blade still pressed to his neck and looked around the forest to where she assumed the rest of the men were.

"Try that again and your friend is a walking corpse," the elf threatened.

Ishta and Strider moved to protect Lorelei from behind. Moments later, the forest erupted with battle cries as the men swarmed them, weapons in hand.

"They always choose the hard way, don't they?" Lorelei asked. She shoved her captive away, pulling her knife from his leg as he fell to the ground. In the same motion, she threw the knife at one of the charging men, it impaled his neck, and spun around to meet another with her sword. With a snarl, Ishta leapt into the air, morphing into her larger form at the peak of her jump. As she landed, her fangs tore into another man's shoulder. Beside her, Strider was locked in battle with a bandit who seemed more skilled than the rest. He bore a sword and shield and was effectively parrying Strider's blows. The two bandits that were left, not including the one Strider was fighting, turned tail and ran as soon as they realized their disadvantage. This left Lorelei and Ishta open to help Strider, and Ishta did what she often would do when helping Lorelei. She dashed forward and tackled the bandit to the ground, pinning his arms down so that he could not fight. She bared her fangs to scare him into submission. It seemed to work, and the man made no signs of struggling. Strider walked forward and stood next to Ishta.

"Who are you?" Lorelei growled as she positioned herself next to Strider, "And what do you want?"

This bandit, like the last, made no signs of speaking, even with the threat of death. Lorelei glared down at him and just about stepped forward to further threaten him, but Strider acted before her. He knelt down next to the bandit and pulled out a small sword that was still sheathed in his belt. The sword was hardly large enough for a hobbit, and its metal was not crafted by any pack or race that Lorelei could recall in the present world. No, she doubted that it was even made in the realm of the living.

"Now where did you get this?" Strider asked menacingly as he recognized it to be a Morgul blade. "Are you an agent of the Nazgûl?"

Still, the bandit did not say anything. Strider slowly stood and Lorelei eyed the small knife in his hand, a painful memory replaying itself in her mind. She began to clench and unclench her fists as her eyes slightly glazed over. It was quite a few hundred years ago, but the memory was still fresh and painful in her mind.

"He's nothing more than scum," Ishta growled, bringing the elf back to present. "He probably stole it."

"Unless he has powerful magic there would be no way to do so," Strider said. "No, he was given this blade for a purpose."

Lorelei studied Strider for a moment before she turned to her first captive, who was struggling to stand. She picked him up by his neck and held him against a tree.

"You seem like a smart man," she said cunningly. "I'm sure you know what will happen if you keep silent about your intentions. Speak and I may spare you a multitude of pain."

The man stared at her, not sure whether he should speak. His eyes seemed conflicted as though he was fighting an internal battle. He glanced at the other bandit who sneered at him in warning. When his eyes found Lorelei again, however, he knew that what she said wasn't just a threat. Like every low-stooping piece of dirt, his life meant more to him than anything else.

"He was given that blade to hold onto," he replied. Then, the bandit under Ishta struck out, though it did little against Ishta's bulk. The man Lorelei held looked at him with fear for a moment. Lorelei tightened her grip slightly to command his attention; she knew the other man wouldn't free himself from Ishta's paws. "I- I do not know who he was meant to kill with it," the bandit said quickly.

Lorelei searched his eyes for a long moment. "You never saw us here," she said before she threw him aside and snarled, "Fly before I change my mind."

The man obliged and scrambled away as Lorelei turned to the other bandit and removed one of her knives from its hiding place.

"Care to finish his explanation?" she asked. The bandit turned his head and spit onto the ground, to which Lorelei responded with a quick flick of her wrist. The knife embedded itself in his throat and his last stuttering breath was filled with his own sticky blood. Strider looked at her with slight bewilderment as she walked forward and yanked the knife out of the bandit's throat. She wiped it clean on his clothes and once again hid it amidst her layers of leather.

"Was that necessary?" Strider asked as he sheathed his sword.

"He wasn't going to talk and I wasn't going to let him escape just to attack us again," Lorelei replied dismissively. She turned to once again to walk toward Eregion, but paused. She looked at Strider and held her hand out.

"The blade," she requested. Strider paused and looked at her warily before he held out the Morgul blade. She took it and tucked it safely inside her clothing; she wasn't about to let it out of her sight. She then continued to walk in the direction she had been originally headed toward. Ishta joined Lorelei and turned back into her smaller size. Strider, now entirely interested on what Lorelei was really doing in the wilds, and what she needed the blade for, quickly caught up. He hung back a few feet, eying the elf with faint wariness. He wondered if it was ill-contempt that she killed the man so readily, or if it was only in her nature. As he thought about it, he realized that he really shouldn't be surprised that she should do such a thing. She was called "wolfkin" for a reason. Perhaps, living with wolves had turned the elves of Narmo Rilli a little more savage than the elves of Rivendell and Lothlórien. It was too early to tell, he supposed, since he had to admit there were probably other elves out there that might do the same thing. The Silvan elves were one such people that would take that action if threatened well enough. He decided that he wouldn't hold it against her, at least for the time being.

Suddenly, Strider was aware of something. Though the battle was over and should have left Lorelei unhindered due to its brief duration, she seemed to be breathing heavily. Upon further listening he noticed that Ishta, too, was strained in her breathing. In fact, the two seemed to breathe in rhythm. Over the next few minutes, their inhalation slowed at the same pace until he could no longer hear their breaths. He wondered if there was reason for that, but did not voice it.

The remainder of the nearly finished day went without interruption; however Lorelei and Ishta seemed even more alert than they had been earlier. Because of that, words were very minimal if there were any to begin with. That part wasn't so different from earlier.

It wasn't long after the scrimmage with the bandits that the light from the sun disappeared behind the horizon entirely and the group stopped to make camp. While Strider made a small fire, Lorelei climbed a tree close by and sat amongst the branches. Ishta lay at the base of the tree, ever vigilant for her partner. When Strider suggested they set a watch, Ishta informed him that her ears would alert her to danger before he could if he was awake. He seemed doubtful at first, but when Ishta told him that there was a mouse among the roots of the tree behind him, and indeed there was, he agreed that it would be best if she was the watch.

Lorelei remained in the tree, never commenting on Ishta and Strider's conversation. She seemed unaffected by the cold that the night brought with it and so didn't seek the warmth of the fire. At some point during the night, after Strider had fallen into a light sleep, he was awakened by a sweet sound that came from where Lorelei sat. Since he lay with his back to Ishta and the elf, he kept his eyes open and listened to the almost haunting sound. It was unlike the songs of Rivendell he often heard that were flowing and joyous. Lorelei's song was mysterious and powerful, though she was quiet and the rhythm was slow. He couldn't understand the words, but it reminded him of a lonely wolf tilting its head to the sky and singing of its abandon. After a few more verses of the song, a low howl joined in with Lorelei that provided an even more enigmatic feel. Wolf and wolfkin sang together, their voices constantly building up louder and more majestic. Then, suddenly, it stopped. Lorelei muttered a last gentle phrase that left a feeling of sorrow in Strider. He wondered what the lyrics were, but felt that the silence that befell the forest was too heavy for him to ask. He closed his eyes again and decided that he might inquire what the song was when it was morning. The rest of the night, it seemed that nothing stirred. But far away, someone was watching them.

When Strider was once again pulled from his slumber, the sun was just peeking out over the mountains beside the forest. The fire had died out some time in the night and left a chill in him, but it began to melt away as soon as he stretched and sat up to take in the area around him. Nothing seemed to be amiss in the forest, however he realized that Ishta was no longer lying at the base of the tree in front of him, and Lorelei was not amongst its branches. He stared at the spot for a few moments before he shook his head and stood. He should have known that she would have left when she could; he was the one who followed after her without her true consent, after all.

He looked about the forest one last time, unsure of where to go. He knew he was close to Rivendell, perhaps spending a few weeks there to rest would warrant some good. His mind made up, he set out in the direction for the hidden elven kingdom. Once to the edge of the forest he was in, there would be a stretch of grasslands before he arrived at the Trollshaws, which were at the entrance to Rivendell. There was time enough for him to go around them, however, so that was likely what he would do. As he walked he removed from his pack a bit of bread and dried meat. It wasn't much, but it was breakfast.

"You left the chance of a good couple of conies for that?" a voice asked behind him. He stopped and turned with surprise. There was Lorelei, bow in hand, with Ishta as always standing next to her.

"I thought you'd left," he said.

"I did, for some breakfast. You're lucky I didn't catch anything before I realized you were up or it would have been a waste of meat."

"I could have eaten it," Ishta pointed out with a low, rumbling chuckle.

"Well, not everyone can eat raw, now can they?" Lorelei asked without even looking at Ishta. She returned her bow to its sheath on her back and began to walk through the forest again, Ishta and Strider in tow. "You appeared to know where you were going," she said to Strider.

"I was making way for Rivendell, since we're so close," he informed.

A look of disgust appeared on Lorelei's face and she scrunched up her nose, though Strider did not see it. "You can keep on that way yourself if you want," she said. "I'll be passing it by."

"Oh?" said Strider. "Why so?"

Lorelei huffed but said nothing on the matter. Still, it wasn't hard for Strider to guess that she had some reason that she didn't want to travel to the city. He supposed it would be best, then, for him to avoid mentioning that he lived there as a boy.

"They might have knowledge of your sword there," he said, still liking the idea of stopping at Rivendell along the way.

"I doubt any wolfkin would even dare to venture within twenty leagues of that place. The elves of Rivendell have no knowledge of the blade."

"I do believe you're about three-quarters past your twenty league marker," Strider pointed out. Lorelei glared at him but he continued to speak before she could protest. "How long exactly has your grudge against them existed?"

Lorelei paused, a bit annoyed that he made such a connection so easily, but tried not to let it get to her. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a grudge," she mused. "It's something more like an extreme distaste that causes me to want to avoid stepping foot inside of Rivendell's borders."

Strider did his best to keep the irritation out of his voice when he answered, but the elf was probably able to discern it anyway.

"You haven't answered my question," he reminded Lorelei. The elf glanced at him and considered his question.

"At the very least, it was there since I was born," she said.

"Which was how long ago?" Strider pressed.

Lorelei shrugged. "Since before you were born," she responded loosely. She could sense Strider's waning patience, however, and became serious once again. "I am seven-hundred and forty-seven."

Strider looked at her with little surprise. She was young for an elf; that could be the reason for her occasional snide comments and sharp tongue. "Seven-hundred years isn't too long for your people," he said slowly. "Perhaps, if the blade is as old and great as you say, the elves of Rivendell will know something. Many of them have seen thrice as many ages as you."

Lorelei remained silent for a while, mulling over Strider's suggestion. It was true that Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, was as old as her father, if not more. There probably was a time in which her people and his were at peace, though she could not recall it. If there was, then it would likely to have been only a few years after the Great Journey, and it was plausible that Yaban sought counsel from Elrond when he searched for a place to hide his blade. Lorelei probably could find help, even if it was only to decipher Muzrad's riddle, but her pride as a kin of wolves was large. She would not deny that her feelings were strong in the matter, and she didn't trust herself to remain calm in the halls of Imladris. Without knowing it, one of the elves could say something to incite her anger. The blood between her people and Rivendell was bad enough; she did not wish to further their dislike of each other.

"I do not think it wise," she finally said. Strider moved to stand in front of Lorelei.

"Do you want to find your Blood Whistler or not?" he asked. Lorelei just looked at him. "Do you even know where to start?"

"Of course," Lorelei huffed. That is, she knew the general direction, but not many of the lines of the poem made sense to her. If she had more time to meditate on them perhaps she could come up with a few theories, but as it was: on the open road there were too many sights and sounds that distracted her from thinking. The last time she had traveled from her father's domain was near six-hundred years ago, and that was only a short trip to Ered Mithrin when the dwarves of the Grey Mountains had invited her father and his family to a feast. Those were less troubled times, and the dwarves and elves were much fonder of each other then. It had been centuries since they had any contact with the lively group of people, or anyone outside of their borders. Even the relations they had with Greenwood were frayed; only messages carried by squires were passed between their kingdoms, and those were not numbered very high.

Strider seemed to read into her half-truth because he raised an eyebrow. "And just how much of the riddle have you solved thus far?"

Lorelei growled under her breath – something many wolfkin made a habit of thanks to the company they kept – and moved around the Ranger with quick steps. She was frustrated that he seemed so adamant in making her visit an enemy she had never had dealings with before outside of her own halls. At least, never any good dealings. She doubted she would be welcomed at all, and saw no point in going out of the way to get there. Beside her, she heard hurried paw steps matching her own long strides.

"Lorelei," Ishta said sternly, "think about his proposition for a moment."

"I have," Lorelei replied tersely without bothering to look down at the wolf. She knew Ishta was much more forgiving than her, but she never expected she would so abruptly be on the side of the Peredhel and his people. She thought of the title with distaste – it was only given to the half-elven such as Elrond, and was a rather insulting reference in Narmo Rilli. However she felt no guilt in thinking of him that way.

"Indeed," Ishta growled sarcastically. "Would it not be better to make a quick stop and elude your father's warriors? If there is one place they would not be expecting us to travel it is Rivendell."

"With good reason!" Lorelei snapped. Ishta sped up and stood in front of the elf, blocking her way. Lorelei was getting rather tired of people doing that.

"Yet, despite your father's treatment of Elrond, he visits every decade or so to keep up relations. You must think it strange that one so horrible would bother to do that. Have you ever met him? It is logical that Elrond might have some knowledge of Blood Whistler, and what other choice might we have? At the very least it will give you a quiet place to think."

"I do not require a place to think," Lorelei huffed out in exasperation. "And I am not bringing the knowledge of such a verse into their hands; think of what they might do with it."

"Which is what exactly?" Ishta asked, to which Lorelei had no answer. "You have been instilled with the hate of Elrond and his kin since you were born, yet you know not what it is that makes them our enemies, do you? They would not find any value in a sword fashioned by our people; they have talented enough smiths of their own. They are not malicious warriors unless threatened by evil, either, so I hardly doubt they would imprison you or use you as a bargaining chip against your father. If anyone has knowledge of the sword's whereabouts it would be Elrond. Despite how much your father has tried to keep past dealings with Rivendell a secret from you, you know they were once great allies to us. Right now you are only abiding by your father's wishes. If going against your father has to be your reason for seeking their aid, it is better nothing."

Lorelei looked away, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists at Ishta's explanation of her actions. Abiding by her father's wishes was definitely not something she practiced regularly, and that was no secret to Ishta. She hated how the wolf exploited her daily conduct so easily.

"You cannot deny this to be true," Ishta insisted.

Finally, Lorelei let out a short, "Fine," and turned to Strider. "Lead the way," she gestured to the road ahead in a most insulting manner. Strider did his best to ignore it and moved toward their new destination. He was not looking forward to traveling with an angry wolfkin all the way into the city's depths, but he knew that it was unlikely she would be willing to change her mind now that she had made it up. Even spending only a single day with her, he knew she was more stubborn than a dwarf.

Her change in mood didn't quite bother him as much as the knowledge of her deep mistrust of Elrond, however. He had heard of no such grudges during his time with the elves, aside from Thranduil's few misgivings about Elrond's parentage. He wondered if Elrond tired of it and put it to the back of his mind, or truly had no knowledge of it. The former seemed much more likely than the latter, but it was still baffling to him that he had never been told of the wolfkins' apparent aversion for the House of Elrond. He hoped that Lorelei would be able to keep her temper in check or they would have a hard time in Rivendell. While Elrond and his people were not generally quick to anger, he had a strange feeling that Lorelei would have enough endurance to outlast their patience. His only hope, unfortunately, seemed to lie in Ishta. Though she was a wolf, and technically the more "feral" one of the two, she seemed to have a bit more sense in the way of conserving emotions than Lorelei.

"How far did you say we were from Rivendell?" Lorelei asked.

Strider paused and debated which way would be the best to take them. They could go through the Trollshaws, a bit dangerous, or they could go around them, which might take a bit longer than the elf is willing. Neither really seemed that welcoming, but a sudden thought came to mind that solved the problem. He recalled a secret entrance in the plains. He had only used it on occasion, and generally there was no use for him to, however with the company he was carrying it was probably the best. It was also a bit faster, and speed might calm Lorelei's nerves at least a little.

"Five leagues," he said, "by the way the crow flies. We'll take a bit of a round about to avoid the Trollshaws."

"Good," Lorelei responded with ill contempt in her voice. "That gives me a few hours to sharpen my blades."

Strider grimaced. Perhaps going to Rivendell wasn't the best idea. He worried for both his and Elrond's mental health should Lorelei prove to be as difficult as she seemed. In any case, it was much too late to turn back now.

xxXXxx

"Impressive," Lorelei remarked, her arms folded across her chest. "I never would have guessed they were capable of such glorious architecture." She said the words with heavy sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

Strider, Lorelei, and Ishta were standing atop an over-hanging cliff that gave view to the heart of Imladris. The passageway Strider had chosen took them beneath the plains and the forest outside of Rivendell, and led to this terrace. A trickle of water ran down from the walls behind the group and over the cliff, a common occurrence in the hidden glade. Many waterfalls fell from the mountains into streams that flowed elegantly about the city. The sun was nearly at its apex, and as such the edifices and groves of vegetation that stood dispersed among the city were bathed in golden light. It truly was a sight to behold, although Lorelei would never say it out loud. Strider seemed to guess this, as he ignored her statement aside from giving her a disbelieving look.

He turned then and made his way down the rocky trail that led from the cliff to the city gates. Lorelei said nothing more, but rather searched with her eyes everything they passed from the trees to the wild flowers that bloomed among their roots. She had heard tell of the beauty of Imladris but often was it scorned amongst her people that saw no better kingdom than their own Narmo Rilli. Their disapproval seemed unfounded to her, though she was loathe to think it, and she could not help but feel that if her forest was so beautiful then perhaps she would not have left it. She lived in tall, dark red woods that were mysterious, ancient, and powerful, but not quite as pleasing to the eye upon first glance as the elven city now before her. When Lorelei had first seen Rivendell she actually mistook it to be a part of the mountain from her faraway perch, a testament to the skill of the elves who built the city.

As they neared, Lorelei's wonder at the buildings only grew. Narmo Rilli's palace was beautiful, there was no doubt, but much different from the gentle citadel now before her. Where Rivendell seemed to be built for the land to grow with it and sustain it, Narmo Rilli was made more as a fortress, tall and strong. It was much like the red woods surrounding it, and offered shelter from the weather that the tall trunks could not provide. Her home was built with stone that often appeared the same color as the mountains next to it, but the halls of Elrond were a shimmering white that dazzled the eyes. Now that they were closer, the details carved into the pearly stone became apparent. Much like the flowing rivers snaking about the city, the buildings were carved in smooth curves and silver highlights seemed to weave around in the glossy stone. The group passed over a bridge that was built to cross one of said rivers, and Lorelei looked up to find two stone elves with shield and spear in hand guarding the gate. Her eyes remained on them until she passed under the archway that led to a courtyard littered with leaves; the entrance to the city. Lorelei had never thought she would have crossed over the Half-elven's threshold for any reason, but there she stood.

Strider moved forward to greet an elf who had come down from a set of stairs leading away into the city, and Lorelei simply continued her observation of the scene around her. The archways were carved as though they were branches of one of the many differing types of trees that grew in the valley. Lamps were placed around the city, though in the daylight they were not needed. There were many more statues than just the two elves at the entrance, though of whom Lorelei knew not. They seemed simple ellith, clad in the robes usual for many of the elves outside of Narmo Rilli. There was a likely story behind them, but she doubted she would ask about it. Though she was awed by the city, she wanted to leave the halls as soon as possible. She felt much unease there for what seemed no reason.

Before her, in Strider and the greeting elf's conversation, Lorelei heard her name mentioned. She focused in on the two to see Strider gesturing to her. The ellon he had met looked her way with what could only be astonishment: a completely understandable reaction.

"Lady Lorelei," he said with a deep bow, "I was not aware of your intention to visit."

Lorelei nodded to him. "Nor was I," she said, not missing the surprise in Strider's gaze at the way she had been addressed. She offered no explanation, merely looked to the ellon who had greeted them and asked, "Is Lord Elrond near? I desire to speak with him."

The ellon straightened and motioned for them to follow. Lorelei hesitated, but knew that there was no going back now that she was within Elrond's halls.

"He is busy at the moment," the ellon said as he led the group, "but I will inform him of your arrival. Is it a matter of urgency that you come?"

Lorelei wanted to remark that if it were not important she would not seek Elrond out personally, but she bit her tongue and settled for a more mundane response. "Indeed, I am on a task of secrecy and must be on my way quickly if at all possible."

The ellon noted her request with a small nod and slowed to a stop in a round room with a double door at the back of its expanse. "Wait here," he said and moved off to speak with his Lord. Once he had disappeared into the room, Strider turned to look at Lorelei with a raised eyebrow.

"_Lady_ Lorelei?" he asked. Lorelei looked away with a quiet huff.

"Just a title, nothing more. It isn't important."

Strider tilted his head to the side and gave her a disbelieving look. He was not so unobservant that he failed to see the she-elf's change in demeanor as soon as she stepped into the city, or the respect in Rilien's tone as he addressed her. There were yet many things that clouded about Lorelei and her wolf. Before he could inquire more upon the matter, he heard the doors of Elrond's study open once more and Rilien stepped out with a small bow to Lorelei before Elrond appeared by his side. The Lord's first greeting was unnoticed by Lorelei and her wolf; a small welcoming glance to his other special guest.

"Le suilon Lorelei," he said with his hands held out to his side, the long sleeves of his navy robe fluttering at his sides. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from one of the narmo-nosse?"

Lorelei bowed her head in greeting. "I seek council in an important matter," she said, holding to her suspicion of the elves in Rivendell. She did not want just anyone to know of her self-appointed mission and so would not speak of it in the open.

Elrond nodded to that and motioned toward the room he had just left. "Council best met alone, I presume," he stated more than asked. Lorelei and Ishta followed as Elrond retreated back into his study.

Once the three disappeared into the room, Strider turned to the escort still standing by the doors.

"I believe I'm missing something," he said. "Who exactly is she?"

Rilien merely stared at the young boy, astonished that he did not know the company he kept. Then again, it was rare anyone in Elrond's halls spoke of the wolfkin, so it was unlikely he knew of the elves aside from what he heard in the world outside.

"Perhaps that is a question better answered by another," he finally said. Rilien eluded the query simply for the sake of not having to explain the… _delicate_ situation they were in with the wolfkin. "I trust you can still find your way around?" he asked.

Strider slowly nodded, not entirely sure what to make of Rilien's reaction to his question.

"Good, then I shall take my leave," Rilien said quickly. "I have matters I must attend to."

xxXXxx

"It has been some years since I have heard from your father," Elrond said as he casually made way through his study and to the back where a balcony connected to it. "Or any of your people." He paused to give Lorelei a questioning look. "What need of council is it that brings the daughter of Lord Erynion to my halls?"

"I heard tell of something in my recent travels," Lorelei began.

Elrond could tell this would be no short conversation, and so motioned Lorelei to sit at the table standing in the middle of the balcony. She did so, Ishta laid down by her side, and Elrond sat across from her.

"Tell me, Lord Elrond," Lorelei spoke again, "what do you know of the blade called Blood Whistler?"

Elrond could not hide his surprise at such an arbitrary question. He had not heard any mention of the blade for many millennia, not since he was first asked to keep its secret safe. He folded his hands in his lap and studied the young elleth.

"Why do you come to me with this inquiry?" he asked. As far as he was aware, it was in the wolfkins' belief that the sword had perished with Yaban. There should be no reason one of the narmo-nosse would come to him with the blade on their minds. Perhaps, however, he thought too much on it and she was not there for the reason he thought she was. He kept his eyes completely unclouded of emotion.

Lorelei almost wanted to reprimand Elrond, considering the sword belonged to her people so the Lord shouldn't really be asking questions, but she doubted he would give her an answer should she say something so offensive. Besides, in his land he was far above her in rank and she did not want to go through any trouble if she could help it.

"Why?" she asked as she leaned back comfortably in her chair. "I merely wonder, Lord Elrond."

Ishta rolled her eyes and rested her head on her paws; she could tell this was going to be a long and tiring exchange.

Elrond was alive long enough to know that Lorelei did not simply "wonder." There was reason for her asking though he knew not what it could be. He didn't plan on revealing anything until he was sure of the elleth's intentions.

"Well, then perhaps I can put your mind at ease," he said. "I know of the blade what is told in legend; it was a sword wielded by a mighty warrior of your people. In battle it sang as its master cut down orcs, beasts, and elves alike; whoever came to harm your kin. So light was the sword that it cut through the air swifter than wind, yet it was stronger than a dragon's scales. At least, that is what the stories say. The sword was destroyed along with its wielder in the greatest battle of your people; the Aduial Ohta."

Lorelei had closely watched Elrond throughout this short account. What he said was true, but she knew that he spoke not the whole of it. She hadn't been able to discern anything specific behind his eyes, his mask was too well practiced, but there was definitely something there.

"Is that all?" she asked when he had finished.

"There isn't much else to tell," Elrond said easily. It was yet another half-truth. Lorelei narrowed her eyes at the Lord.

"It would make sense to me, Lord Elrond, to hide knowledge from an enemy. However, I do not see point in deceiving allies."

Elrond raised his eyebrows in believable surprise. "You accuse me of deceiving?"

Lorelei stared at him and folded her arms contemplatively across her chest. It was possible the Lord didn't have knowledge of it – as she had mentioned to Strider there weren't many wolfkin who would venture into Imladris for any reason. She was the only exception in what could have been four thousand years.

"Nay," she said finally. "I do not accuse. I merely caution."

Ishta breathed an inaudible sigh of relief; she had worried for a moment there that Lorelei might say something she would later regret. Although her attitude toward the healer was not entirely desirable, it was certainly better than the wolf had expected.

"Your concern is touching, child," Elrond said politely, but ignored her statement's true meaning. "I'll keep that in mind."

Lorelei clenched her teeth; he was clearly not going to give anything up so easily. Before she could make any further inquiries, Elrond again spoke.

"Is the only reason you came here because you seek knowledge?" he asked. Lorelei took note of how he avoided saying exactly what knowledge she was looking for. This question was different from the others. Elrond did not seem guarded as he asked it. Lorelei debated for a moment what to tell him, and then shook her head.

"I am passing through," she said. "On my way east."

"East?" Elrond raised an eyebrow. "To Thranduil's kingdom?"

"Yes," Lorelei said slowly. There was something in his tone that roused suspicion inside her. "Why?"

"It simply seems strange that you should travel so far without a guard," Elrond said. Rilien had informed him that she appeared to be alone, aside from her wolf and Aragorn.

Lorelei huffed. "Ishta is guard enough."

Elrond glanced down at the wolf next to Lorelei and nodded. "Of course, my mistake."

He didn't believe her, not for a second. Ishta might be strong, but there are many dangers out there that are stronger. Elrond highly doubted that Erynion would let his daughter travel such a long way without a full squadron of soldiers to protect her.

"You must be tired," Elrond broke the uneasy silence. "And in need of a good meal. I shall have someone lead you to a room where you can rest before lunch is ready."

Lorelei almost denied him. She did have the intention of leaving that very same day, after all, but she stopped herself. The longer she stayed, the more chance she had in finding out about the blade. While Elrond was very astute in hiding any deception, Lorelei was sure there was something he wasn't telling her. In fact, he really hadn't told her anything aside from what she already knew. Perhaps a little rest from travel would do her some good, although her choice of location would not on another occasion be the valley of Imladris.

"You are very generous, Lord Elrond," she said. "I have no choice but to accept."

She hoped she would not regret her decision.


	3. Chapter 3

_(A/N): As per the request of Danyele (I really should have mentioned this before, do forgive) this story takes place in the year TA 2979. It's the beginning of winter so it's some time in late November. In the next couple of chapters, the year will become TA 2980, which is the year Arwen proclaims her love for Aragorn as they are staying together in Lothlorien... That is a foreshadow right there... Anywho, that's really it. Thank you to all who reviewed - I especially love questions about my story if you have any, so don't be afraid to ask! Now, without further ado..._

Chapter 3

Lorelei hadn't realized how hungry she'd been until she reached the large hall in which she was to eat with Lord Elrond and a handful of his people. The table hadn't been laden with any food other than some bread and wine, but the sweet scent of the warm loaves freshly baked caused her mouth to water longingly. Upon her arrival, Elrond stood from where he had been sitting at the head of the table and greeted her with kindness. His smile caused pause in Lorelei's step, for but a brief moment.

As she had been waiting in her given room until she was summoned to the meal, after freshening up and reluctantly removing her weapons at Ishta's command, she had reflected on her meeting with Elrond and realized that his mannerism was little like how she'd imagined it to be. Her ears were used to only hearing the faults in the Lord, but what her eyes saw was much different. She couldn't be sure whether he was putting on a welcoming façade or if what her father always told her of the peredhel was wrong. For the time being she proceeded with caution, but did her best not to seem bitter or hateful in the Lord's presence. It would do no good for her or her people to proclaim Elrond an enemy, nor to arouse spiteful feelings in him. Their relations had been stretched quite thin over the past centuries of Lorelei's life, but she would not be the one to snap the cord connecting their kingdoms.

"Lord Elrond," she greeted with a small smile and a bow when she reached the ellon's side. (Curtseying never crossed her mind, considering that not only was she not in a dress, she was a warrior of her people and found it strange to be acting like a lady.) Elrond motioned to his left, where two ellyn were also standing politely. He introduced the closest to himself as Glorfindel, a long-time friend and highly regarded warrior, and next to him was Erestor, head advisor and scholar to Rivendell. Lorelei exchanged a quick greeting with them before taking her seat as a guest of honor on Elrond's right. Ishta, as always, lay down at the side of Lorelei's chair and kept her ears perked to listen to the conversation at the table.

"As I was saying," Erestor began, directing Glorfindel.

Elrond raised his hand with a small smile. "Your debate can wait, Erestor," he said. "We have company here to speak of important matters."

Erestor looked as though he didn't like that Elrond implied his conversation was unimportant, but he nodded and kept quiet. By the time Elrond had returned his attention to Lorelei, she had already grabbed two rolls from one of the many whicker baskets lining the table's expanse; one for Ishta and one for herself. Ishta chomped happily on the bread while Lorelei did her best to eat with some reserve. When an elf spends so much time with a wolf, they often find it hard to eat how they should at a table. Such was Lorelei's dilemma. While she wasn't nearly as ravenous as dwarves, her table manners certainly weren't on a normal basis proper enough for dining with elven lords. She did her best to hide the fact, and was thankful her father despised rude manners. When she ate with him he always pointed out her manners, and so she had a bit of a habit of eating decently in front of him, though out on the road she didn't much care this way or that how she ate. Since Elrond had no pause in directing her, she figured she was doing pretty decent. For once, she was glad that her father had taken up her time to teach her something somewhat useful.

"You said earlier that you are traveling to Thranduil's kingdom," Elrond began. "Might I ask what calls you to go there?"

Lorelei only hesitated long enough to swallow the piece of bread she had been chewing. "I merely wanted to get out of the forest," she lied easily – or half-lied, since it _was _true. "I haven't traveled for quite a while."

Elrond nodded and kept silent the thought that she just gave him another reason Erynion wouldn't want her to travel alone. If she was unfamiliar with the wilds there was a chance she could wander from safe paths, and the Wolfkin Lord wouldn't overlook that.

"Then I am glad you were able to make a stop here," he said with sincerity. He might not be fond of Erynion, but the last thing he wanted was for the relations between their two kingdoms to keep going downhill, especially with how close they were in distance to each other. It would be all too easy to fall into another bout of kin killing if Eryinion's ill will stretched too far. Lorelei might just be a blessing from Ilúvatar.

Lorelei nodded to Elrond's statement, not entirely sure what to comment on it. After all, if she said that she was glad as well then she would be lying completely, and she was surrounded by three ancient ellyn. They would certainly be able to tell she wasn't being truthful and that would not serve her well. Thankfully, she was saved from having to make an actual response when Glorfindel spoke.

"Your people keep watch over the land of Angmar," he recalled. "How do you fair in your vigil?"

This, Lorelei was surprised to hear an inquiry about. She knew her father wasn't particularly forthcoming with information, but considering the past of Angmar it would only make sense for him to alert the other elven lords to his actions concerning the territory.

"I thought you knew," she said slowly. "My father withdrew our forces keeping watch on the orcs that hide in Angmar, and he did so quite a while ago. It's been perhaps three-hundred years since one of our own stepped past Angmar's borders."

All three of the ellyn were visibly troubled at this information. It was Glorfindel who once again spoke.

"What reason did your father have for this course of action?" he asked cautiously. He did not want to sound like he was accusing Erynion, but it was a rather odd choice.

Lorelei paused. Her father always had a motive, but of this she was unsure. Then again, she was unsure of most of his actions. The only thing she could suffice to say was the honest truth, as far as she observed it.

"The orcs are not easy creatures to handle, but for a long while they remained dormant and our watch was silent. Our forces were needed elsewhere, and so Erynion withdrew them from the quiet border. Since then, as far as my knowledge goes, we have received no trouble on the perimeter between our forest and Angmar."

"And of the Ettenmoors?" Erestor asked this time; he did not bother to hide his accusing tone with cautious words. Lorelei looked at him and answered evenly.

"The Ettenmoors are always full of evil; too much to be purged by us alone. It is for that reason my father had our warriors withdraw from Angmar. The creatures in the Ettenmoors have gained a bit of courage and curiosity. We needed every elf and wolf to be on the lookout for any of the beasts that could emerge. We had our hands full."

This time it was Elrond who spoke. "Why did you not seek for reinforcements?"

He meant to convey concern and friendliness, however the question struck a cord in the young elleth. Her people had not needed help from outsiders in well over a millennia. She knew she shouldn't have stayed for lunch, but she really didn't expect the topic to go downhill so quickly.

She bristled as she replied tersely, "We needed none."

Glorfindel raised a golden eyebrow at this. "That is not what it sounds like from what you just informed."

Lorelei turned her steel gaze to him and almost made a comment she would probably regret, but Ishta was quick to act. She stood so that she could peer over the tabletop at the ellyn sitting across from Lorelei. Lorelei, along with the other three ellyn, looked down at the wolf.

"We had our own reinforcements when the company previously watching Angmar arrived," she said without the irritation Lorelei now contained. "We were able to frighten off any possible attackers with our added numbers, and so Erynion decided they would stay in the forest to protect our people."

"I suppose that would seem logical, if not for the growing threat in the East," Erestor retorted.

"And what would you have us do?" Ishta asked before Lorelei could respond with a sharp tongue. "We do not have half as many numbers as you, and are plagued not only by orcs, but all of the foul beasts a mind can imagine. We are trying to avoid an outright war; calling you to our aid would not bring us any form of assistance in that aspect."

To this, Erestor had no response. There was truth behind the wolf's words, and he could not deny that other matters were a little more important than a few scattered orcs and creatures. An uneasy silence settled upon the group, only to be broken by Elrond's calming voice.

"Aside from that, then, how does your kingdom fair? Your father can be somewhat vague in his letters."

Lorelei looked at the Lord when she replied, "All is as well as can be expected under the circumstances."

"Then that is good," Elrond said with a smile.

Again, Lorelei found herself caught off guard by the peredhel's kindness. She returned his smile, although not without a moment of hesitation. She then proceeded to turn her attention back to her unfinished roll, cold now that it had been left to sit, but satisfying all the same. She reflected upon her short conversation and wondered just how much information Erynion had withheld from other kingdoms, or if it was only Imladris he kept out of his counsel. She also wondered what exactly seeded her father's hatred of Elrond. As far as she could tell he was wise and compassionate, despite his being a half-blood. Then again, wolfkin - like wolves - were prideful and knew how to keep grudges. Whatever Eryinion's reasons, they likely came about before Lorelei was born. She was raised with it, so she never thought to question until now.

"Lorelei," Ishta said quietly, interrupting the wolfkin's thoughts. Her next words were in Narinos, the language of the wolfkin. "Where do you suppose Strider is?"

Lorelei paused in her musings to look around the table at the other elves, but did not see the Ranger.

"Perhaps he's not one for formal luncheons," Lorelei suggested in the same language. It was quite probable, although she did not make the comment seriously. Ishta ignored her partner's sarcasm.

"Still, I wonder where he's off to."

Lorelei remained silent for a moment before she turned to Elrond and asked in Quenya, "Do you by chance know where Strider has gone?"

Elrond thought for a moment with a furrowed brow, unsure of whom she was speaking. "Strider…" he trailed, and suddenly recognition sparked in his eyes. "Ah, you must mean Aragorn."

Lorelei nearly choked. She knew of Aragorn – heir to one of the greatest thrones of men – and had heard that he was biding his time until he reclaimed the throne. She knew that he was one of the Dúnedain and that he kept very close ties to the Rangers of the North. She had never once imagined, however, that _Strider_ was this king – raised by the elves of Rivendell, if she recalled. Of all the people, that fastidious child was _Aragorn?! _As far as Lorelei knew of royalty, stopping to help a complete stranger was not on their highest of lists; the only exception being herself. It was rare to find another high-born being with any humility at all. As such, she found it incredibly hard to believe that Strider was _the _Aragorn. Perhaps she had misheard the Lord of Imladris. "Pardon?" she asked with absolute disbelief.

Elrond merely seemed amused by her reaction, as though he was expecting it. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn. The Ranger you were accompanied with," he explained.

Lorelei tried not to make a fool of herself by staring at Elrond, but there was little else she could do. She had only spent a little over a day with the young human so she couldn't claim to know him well, however she did not think of him as kingly material. Then again, who was she to judge? She was not well known for her expertise in political and royal affairs. She was and would always remain a warrior – no more, no less – despite her title as princess.

"He did not inform me that is his true name," she finally managed to say.

"I suppose it is only fair," Elrond mused with a slight smirk. "Considering that you never informed him of who you were either."

Lorelei arched an eyebrow and replied, "I told him my name. It is not under my control whether he knows my heritage or not. Shouldn't he know, anyway? If he is to be a king."

"There are few people who know you as the name you chose for yourself," Ishta reminded Lorelei, "Many call you by the name your father gave you."

"Indeed, it is lucky Rilien knew your name as Aragorn gave it to him," Elrond agreed.

While Lorelei did not wish to be reminded of the misleading name she had been given as a newborn babe, she could not deny the truth in Ishta's words.

"I suppose I'll have to change that," she grumbled under her breath. Despite her protests her father still called her by the name he had given her, and so many elves even in her own kingdom called her by that name. Perhaps if she went around announcing to the world her preferred name, the other might be erased.

Her train of thought was interrupted as the doors to the kitchen opened and out came many servers with silver platters. The smell of the dishes reminded Lorelei that she had not eaten yet that day, and her stomach growled lightly. The meal was hearty – with many assortments of… vegetables. It was certainly a healthy way to go. However, being that Lorelei lived with wolves – a large portion of her diet was cooked animals, not legumes. It was a bit disappointing, but she ate all the same. She was hungry and it would be rude not to. Besides, she didn't only eat meat and so she liked a decent number of the things served – just not nearly as much as she would enjoy, say, a smoked pigeon or some stewed rabbit. Or even better: a hunk of steaming steak with a side of the fresh honey loaves that she often requested of her own cooks. That was rare, though, considering no cattle lived in the forest.

She tried not to think of the food she would prefer to be eating, and instead thought on her search for Blood Whistler. It was dangerous to remain in one place for too long so she should truthfully be on the move as soon as possible to avoid any chance of being found by her father, but at the same time she really wanted that sword. She doubted she could discover its location on her own unless she was able to decipher the poem Muzrad had told her, and even then if she interpreted even a single line wrong it could add weeks to her journey. She wanted to arrive in Greenwood as soon as possible. There was risk in staying at Rivendell, but like Ishta had pointed out earlier, Erynion would not expect her to come here. That, at least, bought a little time.

"Lord Elrond," Lorelei finally said with her decision made.

Elrond looked up from his plate and smiled. "Yes?"

"I do ask your forgiveness for the suddenness of this, but I was wondering if it would not be too much trouble to allow me to reside in your halls for a few days. I do not think I am yet ready to travel on the road again."

"Of course," Elrond replied without hesitation, although he did question to himself what actual reason Lorelei had for this unexpected request. "You can keep the room you were using earlier, if it suits you."

"It would suit me just fine," Lorelei replied and then bowed her head. "I am most grateful for your hospitality, my Lord."

The respect she was giving him felt weird, for lack of a better way to describe it. She was not yet sure of how she felt of him, and so did not really want to be respectful, but didn't want to be rude either. Polite manners, of course, won out.

Elrond responded with a warm smile. "You are always welcome among my halls, my Lady."

The rest of the meal was rather laid back, with little political talk, to the relief of Lorelei. She never truly understood politics, nor did she have any desire to. She much rather enjoyed hearing the many conversations of the elves around her – most, if not all, thick with laughter. She had to admit for such a "horrid" being, Elrond seemed quite joyful, and his subjects no less. Lorelei began to wonder just what the peredhel did to earn her father's ill feelings. Erynion may not be the easiest elf to talk out of an opinion, but most often his thoughts on someone or something were not unfounded, and held a large amount of truth in them. Lorelei was no longer sure who she should believe.

She remained quiet throughout the rest of the meal, unless another elf sought her thoughts on one subject or another. After she was finished eating – she made sure that she waited a while so that she didn't seem rude – she excused herself and walked back toward her temporary room. On the way back, however, she stopped upon noticing a solitary figure sitting with a book in hand. He was on a bench next to a balcony that gave visibility to the room below.

"Ishta," she said, "If you'll excuse me – I have some business I need to take care of. Wait for me at the room."

Ishta was more than a bit surprised at this request, since it was rare for either of them to leave each other's side, but made no complaints and instead trotted swiftly in the direction of their borrowed living quarters.

Meanwhile, Lorelei sauntered up to where "Strider" was sitting and folded her arms across her chest nonchalantly.

"So this is where you ran off to."

Aragorn paused in reading his book and looked up to see Lorelei standing in front of him with a raised eyebrow.

"You wanted so badly to come here, and yet you avoided the feast Lord Elrond had for us and sat down on this bench to read a book instead of, say, basking in the glorious beauty of the city like any sensible person would."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Aragorn's mouth. "Are you implying something?"

Lorelei huffed. "Only that you're a strange man."

Aragorn just closed his book and sat up, his smile never fading. "I do believe that the meal was thrown not on my account, but on yours," he said. "So I needn't have been there. It was a celebration of hope to renew bonds between kingdoms. Exactly how long has it been since one of your people visited Imladris, or since a _princess _of your people has been seen here, no less?"

Lorelei was almost completely thrown off by this. She thought he knew nothing of her actual identity. But then she recalled her conversation with Elrond on the matter; he knew that she had kept her status secret from Aragorn, and so he probably talked with the Ranger about it while she was waiting to be called for the meal. So he knew one of her secrets. Annoying as that was she also knew one of his.

"I do believe a king is a mite more important than a princess, is he not? _Lord Aragorn._"

It was obvious Aragorn did not expect her to know his real name, and this caused a smirk to form on her lips.

"Just how many secrets did you want me to divulge before you told me yours?" she questioned. He had wanted her to trust him before he even told her his actual name; it was not exactly a wise thing.

"I do not seek to know any of your secrets," Aragorn ensured.

"No?" Lorelei asked and leaned down to be eyelevel with him. "Yet here you are, and not because you want to read a good book in a peaceful elven haven." Her voice and demeanor turned dark as she asked her next question. "Why are you following me?"

Aragorn met her challenging gaze with calm, even emotion. "I am a Ranger; it is my duty to keep a watchful eye on the wilds of Eriador. It is rare that a wolfkin travels beyond her domain, and I was curious as to what called you outside of your home."

Lorelei held his gaze for a while longer before she finally straightened. "And am I a danger to the wilds, Ranger?"

Aragorn considered the question. He could easily say no, but there were still things about Lorelei that unsettled him. Among other things: why did she see the need to keep the Morgul blade they had taken from the bandit leader? And why was she so interested in this Blood Whistler – an ancient blade that was supposed to have perished millennia ago? He could definitely pretend he didn't care and say no. But Lorelei would know he was lying, and that would get him nowhere.

"I don't know yet," he finally said. At the very least, there was some form of astonishment hidden in Lorelei's eyes. She hadn't been expecting him to tell the truth so boldly.

"Then I suppose I'm going to have to deal with you for a while longer, aren't I?" she asked.

Aragorn nodded, and Lorelei inclined her head.

"You might want to be careful of just whose business you go meddling around in, Aragorn. You might land yourself in an undesirable situation."

"I'll take my chances."

Lorelei huffed and shook her head. "A strange man, Aragorn. A strange man indeed."

"Indeed," he agreed with a small smirk. "But no more so than yourself. Why would the princess of the narmo-nosse risk travel alone when none of her people have left her forest in centuries?"

Lorelei remained silent. His question bit deeper than he could ever imagine, considering the circumstances of her departure from her home. She did not enjoy being angry with her father, but it seemed an increasingly present theme in their relationship. She could not get through to him no matter what she did or said and in turn he seemed content to make her life miserable. Perhaps her reason for leaving her homeland was petty and selfish, but she could not come up with another solution. Of course she claimed that she only wanted to visit the outside world again, but the truth was far from that. She – a warrior, a wolfkin, proud and strong – was running. Not just running: fleeing. Escaping from her problems instead of facing them. Yet what else could she do?

Aragorn seemed to sense Lorelei's sudden change in mood, for his smirk faded and his eyes grew concerned.

"Lorelei, why did you leave?" he asked again, but more serious and with a gentler voice. This only troubled Lorelei more, for she gave him no reason to be concerned for her, and she did not need whatever pity or help he would offer. Still, it was somewhat comforting to know that there was at least one person aside from her single friend at home that cared about what she was going through.

"Curiosity," she said. This _was_ one reason, but definitely not the main one. "I wanted to know what the rest of the world looked like. I haven't left my forest for near six centuries."

Aragorn nodded slowly, although he knew there was something she wasn't telling him. He supposed that was to be expected, though, because she was a wolfkin – she had too much pride to let even her closest friends help her in times of need. Why should she treat him any different, especially since he had only just met her?

Aragorn put his book down on the mantle behind him, knowing that no one would disturb it there. He stood and said, "Why don't I show you the garden? I assume that you'd rather be among the trees than in these halls."

Lorelei hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether she wanted to walk with him and inevitably have to avoid more of his questions. But for some reason, a crazy thought washed over her. She knew he wouldn't pressure her if she didn't want to talk about it. She had only met him a day before, but she knew this. That thought alone should have sent her stalking off in the opposite direction of the gardens. But she didn't. Instead, she nodded and began to follow Aragorn as he made his way outside the palace.

Neither of them said a word as they walked through Rivendell's halls. Aragorn wasn't sure what to say while Lorelei just didn't want to say anything at all. It was a bit awkward while they remained in the buildings of the city, but that soon dissipated. Once they had stepped foot in the gardens, the beauty and refreshing air about the trees and bushes seemed to ease the tension between the two, at least somewhat. Aragorn began to point out the different plants and they both discussed the unusual properties of that specific herb, or if it wasn't an herb then they spoke of its splendor in the light of the sun. It was strange to be talking for such a long while with a man she had just met, but Lorelei found that speaking of such trivial things was a lot better than being left to turmoil with her own thoughts.

They spent perhaps an hour wandering the labyrinth of the garden before Aragorn led them to a stream and suggested they should sit for a while. Lorelei did not object; she always loved to listen to water as it tripped and fell over stones on its way down the path it had beaten. She especially loved to see water as it glowed in the moonlight, but given that it was not yet time for dinner, that wouldn't be happening any time soon.

Aragorn pointed out a large rock they could both sit comfortably on and once they were situated they fell silent, and the forest around them seemed to come to life, if it hadn't been before. Somehow inside the valley of Imladris, the air seemed all the clearer and the leaves, though winter had taken hold of the rest of the world, seemed all the greener. They sat a long time taking comfort in the peace of the forest before Aragorn spoke again.

"I couldn't help but overhear the song you and Ishta were singing last night," he began, "Might I inquire what it was about?"

Lorelei could not hide her surprise; she had been sure Aragorn was asleep when she started singing. She supposed it didn't matter that he had heard, although the song was oft kept for the ears of the narmo-nosse, and no one else. Still, she could not simply keep the meaning behind the song a secret; it was much too sacred.

"Death," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the churning waters of the stream. "And life. It describes no one in particular, but neither does it pertain to all who take breath. Among my people it is saved for only those who reach the highest honor. I did not sing it lightly, and you are lucky to have overheard it. It has been some time since that song has been shared with mortal ears, and even longer since it was sung to guide the passing of a mortal. I only wish the occasion for uttering such a melody was not so melancholy, for it is a beautiful tune, albeit haunting and mysterious."

Aragorn stared at her for some time before he slowly asked, "Did you sing it for Muzrad?"

Lorelei nodded. "I may not have known him, but he died keeping safe the item my people have so long sought for. He deserved more than that, but my faults prevented him life, or even painless death."

Aragorn frowned. "It was not your fault the orc attacked him."

A sad smile tugged at Lorelei's lips as she replied, "You're right. It is only my fault that Gleothen no longer has a father, and that his mother now lies weeping without a husband."

Aragorn turned to her, unable to hide his astonishment at her words. "Whatever do you mean by that? You cannot have saved him."

Lorelei let out a dull chuckle. "You speak the cold, hard truth." Before Aragorn could respond she stood and faced him with a small bow. "I thank you for this tour, my Lord, but I am weary from travel and need to return to my quarters for rest. I hope you'll excuse me."

She didn't really wait for his dismissal. She just turned and disappeared into the thick of the trees, leaving Aragorn behind to stare after her with bewilderment. By the time he thought to go after her, she was gone and she left no traceable tracks.

When she returned to her room, Ishta was sitting on the bed waiting for her.

"You were gone for quite some time," she observed.

"Aragorn and I talked for a good long while," Lorelei replied, though no ease or happiness graced her features. She walked over to the bed and sat down next to Ishta as she began unfurling her braid. The two were silent for a long time until Lorelei began to brush out her hair with her fingers.

"What did you speak of for so long?" Ishta finally asked. Lorelei paused mid-stroke for a brief moment before she continued.

"Nothing important, we only shared each other's company. He showed me the garden and we sat by a stream in the shade of the trees."

Ishta chuckled and lay down on the bed. "That is saying a lot, coming from your mouth. You hardly speak to our own people for so long a time."

Lorelei frowned. "That isn't true," she protested.

"No, of course not," Ishta smirked. "You just don't find the time outside of training anymore."

Lorelei rolled her eyes. "Does Ionwë not exist?"

"Oh, forgive me for forgetting your longest known friend," Ishta snorted. "Alright, you talk to one ellon, but never anyone else."

"And do I need to? I cannot have a proper relationship with an elf outside of royalty; my father would not have it."

"His opinion never stopped you before. You did befriend Randir, did you not?"

Lorelei's smile immediately disappeared, and Ishta froze in her place. She had not meant to say it, but she forgot. She knew not a day passed that Lorelei did not think of her friend, but still it pained the princess to have someone mention his name.

"Forgive me," Ishta said quietly. Lorelei shook her head and did her best to give Ishta a genuine smile.

"It is alright, Ishta, what you said is true. Even though Randir was nothing more than a potter's son, he caught my attention. Though my days laughing with him were short I would not have had it any other way."

That was a lie, and Ishta knew it. She _would _have it another way. She would have taken Randir's place. She would have given her life. But that could never come to pass for the fact that she was the king's daughter; everyone would protect her despite her protests. That was what being a princess meant; no matter how strong of a warrior she was, it would never change. That was one of the reasons Lorelei had to escape.

A knock on the door interrupted Ishta's despairing thoughts, and Lorelei immediately stood to answer it. On the other side was a young elleth who curtseyed politely.

"Excuse me, my Lady," she said, "I was sent to see if you need anything."

Lorelei didn't give much thought on it before she responded tersely, "No, thank you," and shut the door. Ishta glared at her.

"You've certainly disproved your point," she grumbled. "That was rude."

Lorelei didn't pay attention to the wolf, but rather turned a moment later and reopened the door to find the elleth still standing there with a bewildered expression.

"On second thought, a bath sounds very nice right now."

The elleth stared at her for a moment before she realized what just happened. "Of course, my Lady. I will have some heated water sent to you at once," she said quickly. "Will that be all?"

Lorelei nodded with a gentle smile, which only seemed to confuse the elleth more, and then shut the door again. She turned around to see Ishta still glaring at her.

"You could have at least said 'Thank you.'"

Lorelei ignored her again and instead began to take off her armor and cape. She said nothing more to her wolf even when she had her bath ready. In fact, she didn't talk much for the rest of the day. And over the next few weeks, she kept mostly to herself. She would speak to Elrond when she saw him, but never about Blood Whistler. She figured she would mention it again when the lord had some time to think it over. Aside from that, her contact with the other elves was limited. She would spend her days training with Ishta or walking alone in the gardens, and sometimes she would go to the library and read. The books she chose often varied from adventure to romance, and she even read of the histories of the elves of Rivendell. She would search for anything that had to do with her own people and compared those stories with the ones she remembered from her studies back at her home.

She did little else during those days and they would pass leisurely, but never seemed as lengthy as the nights. Just like in the forest with Aragorn and Ishta, she never slept. She couldn't. Her dreams were haunted by the color red and old and painful memories. Though she feigned sleep, she would not let herself fall under, not until the third night of the second month of her stay in Rivendell when the winter was getting to its worst.

It was much like any other night; she and Ishta turned in about an hour after sunset and talked until Lorelei claimed that she needed some rest. In truth, she could feel her partner's weariness and she did not want her to suffer for flaws that were not hers to bear.

Lorelei had suspected that it would be relatively easy for her to remain awake, but the moon was waning in the sky and with it her attentiveness drooped. She had not slept a full night for the whole of her stay and she could already feel her heels dragging. As she lay listening to the leaves rustling outside her window, dreariness finally found her. Though it wasn't normally a challenge for her to stay up for days at a time in her forest, the lack of her people's magic seemed to cause her energy to drain so much more quickly. It wasn't long before she succumbed to her subconscious and fell into a deep sleep that summoned many dark thoughts she had long tried to forget.

xXYXx

"_I don't like this," a soft voice whispered behind Almárëa as she stalked boldly through the dark forest._

_Almárëa huffed and shot a glance at her apprehensive friend. "You worry too much, Randir. Nothing will happen; we are only going for a hunt. You have done it before, have you not?"_

_That was a rhetorical question. He would not be a true wolfkin if he had never experienced the instinct and joy of the hunt. Randir ignored the insult, however, for he was used to Almárëa's often abusive sarcasm._

"_Yes," he said and looked over his shoulder toward the palace they left behind, "but this feels underhanded. And it is not like either of us are seasoned warriors," he pointed out, and whipped his head around a second later toward a scuffling noise he heard a little way off._

"_We don't need to be," Almárëa scoffed without even blinking at the sound. "We're hunting, not charging into battle."_

"_That still doesn't explain why you insisted on keeping this a secret from Ishta and leaving her behind," Randir mumbled under his breath._

"_Or why we're heading toward the Ettenmoors," growled Randir's wolf, Faólân, who had been trailing along silently up until that point._

"_Ishta would only run off and tell my father if we tried to get her to come along – it is better she doesn't know. And the best place to hunt is by the border of the Ettenmoors; you know that. If we go there we will catch more prey."_

_Faólân snorted. "This smells like another one of your plans to prove your worth to your father, if you ask me."_

_Almárëa glared at the gray and white wolf. "Not everything I do is centered on him. I want to hunt; it's as simple as that."_

"_Almárëa-"_

"_Don't try to talk me out of it," she snapped at Randir. His hurt gaze caused her to sigh and stop in her march. "Forgive me, Randir. It is true that my father and I had a fight recently and I am still angry with him, but I am not doing this to spite him. It has been moons since you and I have hunted together."_

_Randir still looked troubled despite this reassurance._

"_But never without Ishta," he insisted on his earlier point._

_Almárëa remained silent. She did not want to try to explain her reasons for keeping Ishta out of their excursion. Instead, she turned and continued on deeper into the woods and closer to the Ettenmoors. Randir followed her quietly while Faólân, still grumbling, brought up the rear. It wasn't long before the three began to creep low to the ground with their ears perked for sounds of prey. They could hear many small creatures, but they weren't focused on those. The prize they sought was just about as large as one of their wolves, and just as fierce, though their build was stocky and they could not run nearly as fast. Their thick, black pelts provided warmth on many a stormy night, and though they were rare it was not entirely uncommon to find one wandering in the woods of Narmo Rilli if the night was warm. This night was one such night._

_The moon was full and there was no breeze to stir the needles on the pine trees above. The mountains loomed ahead, dark and menacing, with thick mist covering their tops. Despite the warning it put in Almárëa's heart, it did not serve to falter the elleth in her course. She listened and watched, never making a sound, until she finally heard some scuffling and a couple deep-throated grunts. That was the sound of her prey, and not too far off. _

_She motioned to her left and right – the signal for Randir and Faólân to fan out and corner the beast as it unsuspectingly rummaged around for berries. As one, the group moved forward until the ursidae, a close kin to a bear but much larger, was in sight. Almárëa halted in her advance and then unsheathed her bow without a sound. She notched an arrow and pulled back the bowstring, taking careful aim. The animal must have sensed something, for it stopped in its inspection of the bush in front of it and looked around. Its nose began to twitch and Almárëa knew that, despite the lack of breeze, the ursidae could smell them. It let out a low growl and slowly pushed itself onto its hind legs so that it towered over its hidden hunters. Almárëa's bow followed it in its course and she took a deep breath to focus her shot. If she missed, they would either have to chase down the beast or fight a tiresome battle. Although exhilarating as it did sound, Almárëa was hoping for something quick._

_The split second before she loosed her arrow, a loud crack sounded to her left where Randir was concealed. The ursidae startled and swiveled its head in enough time to avoid the arrow. Almárëa hissed and pulled out another, but suddenly a great, green-skinned creature burst through the trees and grabbed hold of the smaller mammal in its calloused, weathered hands. Almárëa could hear the poor creature's bones snap under the intense pressure, and before she could think she was grabbed from behind and silenced by a hand clamping over her mouth. Her first instinct was to fight back, but that vanished as she inhaled the scent of her assailant – it was Randir._

_He held her closely and hid behind a dense bush. Once he was sure Almárëa knew who he was he released her and peered through the leaves of their cover to see the foul beast as it hunkered over its newly-caught meal and tore its fangs in the ursidae's flesh. He turned to Almárëa and they shared a look of dread. They needn't glance twice at the grotesque figure to know what it was. Its large size, man-like structure, abundance of warts and disfigurements, and unusual strength classified it as an ogre. Neither Almárëa nor Randir had seen one in real life, but the pictures they had seen in storybooks did not lie. The ogres were supposed to have been extinct ages ago when men, elves, and dwarves alike hunted them down, but now it seemed otherwise._

_A rustle in the leaves next to them caused them to turn simultaneously with their weapons drawn. Instead of another ogre as they expected, Faólân stepped into their hiding spot with his lips raised in a snarl._

"_We need to leave while the blood is still clogging up that thing's nose," he growled._

_Neither of the elves made any objections. They sheathed their swords and hopped onto Faólân's back as quickly and silently as possible. Once they were situated, Faólân leapt forward to run back to the city and on to safety. But, before he could take more than a single stride, a powerful force knocked him aside. All three of them flew a good many feet before they landed and skidded painfully across the forest floor. Almárëa was first to recover, and had both of her swords drawn in less than a second. Another ogre, larger than the last, lumbered forward and let out a deafening roar. Behind it, two more ogres appeared out of the shadows with their fangs bared and piercing eyes boring holes through their new prey._

_Randir and Faólân were now on their feet and ready for a battle. Almárëa had a fleeting thought of guilt at the situation at hand, since this was her idea and she would not be persuaded by Randir to give it up, but that was quickly replaced with battle instinct and adrenaline as the ogre closest to her reached out a terrible hand to grab her. She dodged to the side and swung her sword at the ogre's wrist to hopefully sever its hand, but her blade bounced back with a clang as though it had hit steel. She gasped and quickly rolled out of the way to avoid the ogre's other grasping fingers. Once she was on her feet she dashed forward between the ogre's legs and swiped both of her swords across the beast's ankles. Again, her swords seemed to bounce off the ogre with a clash, and when she spun around she saw no obvious wound._

"_Almárëa, watch out!"_

_At Randir's call, Almárëa instinctively ducked as a giant fist sailed through the air to knock her aside. Moments later, she turned to her new attacker and, with Randir's help worked to take him down. They used their smaller size and greater agility to their advantage. They dipped, ducked, swerved, jumped, twisted, and avoided any attacks while simultaneously dealing their own blows. However, no matter how many times their swords and Faólân's fangs made contact with the monster, it showed no sign of tiring or even flinching at the blows. It wasn't long before the ogres howled in frustration and drew their own weapons, which were dull blades made of some sort of animal bone. Almárëa, Randir, and Faólân all leapt back and grouped together, each out of breath._

"_No matter how many times we hit them, we're not making any progress," Almárëa hissed._

"_I can't even taste the smallest amount of blood," Faólân agreed._

"_If we can't harm them then how are we supposed to defeat them?" Randir asked with both frustration and fear. There were only three of them against four ogres, now that the other one had finished eating its prey._

"_There has to be a way," Almárëa said and all three of them had to dive out of the way as one of the ogre's swords sailed through the air toward them. While Randir and Faólân remained on the ground, Almárëa scaled up a tree as quickly as she could and studied the ogres for a few moments as her comrades did their best to hold them off. The ogres seemed unfazed by any of the attacks either of them made on the lower part of the beats' bodies, but as their attacks were aimed higher, the ogres seemed more stressed to get rid of the agile nuisances. Almárëa knew that wasn't a coincidence, but she wanted to make sure before she said anything. There was a chance that it wouldn't lead to anything, and the closer to the ogres' height they were, the more easily accessible they were to the beasts._

_With a deep breath and harsh battle cry, Almárëa leapt out of the tree and pointed her swords down into one of the ogre's necks. Her swords did not bounce off of the creature's skin, but they did not draw blood either. The ogre screeched and began to tear around the forest, trying to throw its attacker off of its shoulders, but Almárëa didn't let herself loose footing, and instead wrenched her swords out of its skin and wrapped her legs tightly around its neck. The ogre began to grope for her with its fumbling hands, but before it could get a hold on her she reached around its head and forced one of her blades through the only spot on its body that was unprotected by skin – its eye. She knew it was a long shot, but by the grace of Gaëaron and Isilmë, her sword found its mark and sliced deep into the ogre's eye. The beast let out a horrible scream and thrashed about more wildly than earlier. Almárëa quickly pulled out her sword and jumped to the floor to avoid the panicking ogre. She landed softly just as the monster ran head first into one of the thick trees and toppled to the floor. She smirked and got ready to take down another one with their easily exploited weaknesses, but a shrill ring in the air alerted her to an incoming sword. She jumped away from it just as she heard a shout of alarm from Randir._

"_Almárëa, kotumo! Hyarya!"_

_Almárëa listened to his warning without turning to see what it was that was coming toward her. She leapt to her right to avoid the ogre swiping for her at her left, but without Ishta near her she overestimated her strength, and the ogre's sword tore through her leather armor without a hitch. A split second later, before she could even think about what just happened, another ogre's fist slammed into her and sent her flying until she hit a tree and crashed painfully to the ground. She groaned and tried to push herself onto her feet, but the world blurred around her and she fell unconscious._

_What felt like moments later, Almárëa opened her eyes slowly at the sound of her name. It took a little before she was able to focus on the face above her._

"_Almárëa, you have to wake up," Randir said, his voice calm but his eyes betraying him to his fear. Almárëa groaned and brought her hand up to rub her eyes._

"_What hap-" her words stopped in her mouth as she saw her hand covered in thick, red blood. Suddenly she remembered being caught by one of the ogre's blades, and her eyes opened wide. She sat up quickly, and was guided to her feet by Randir's strong hands._

"_Faólân is holding them off; we need to get as far away as possible."_

_At first Almárëa followed as Randir guided her in the opposite direction of the ogres, but she stopped in her tracks. She remembered what happened immediately before she fell unconscious, but there was something else that she had to tell Randir._

"_Wait," she ordered her friend and shook her head to clear her thoughts._

"_Almárëa, we don't have time for this," Randir insisted and again tried to pull her away from the ogres, but the elleth released herself from his grasp and, not caring whether or not she got blood all over her face, placed a hand to her forehead to help stimulate her memory._

"_There's something important I have to…" she trailed off as she realized that whatever she needed to say was gone out of her mind._

"_The only thing you need right now is to get back to the palace where you are safe and can be healed," Randir said sternly and wrapped one arm around her waist. He did not let go this time as he led her away from where Faólân was doing his best to keep the ogres away. From the constant pain that he felt, however, he could tell his wolf was not doing well. _

_Thankfully, Almárëa did not protest further, and stumbled along with him as she struggled to fully wake up from the powerful blow she had suffered. Moments later, Randir heard feet pounding hard and coming right toward them. He put himself in front of Almárëa and held his sword out, knowing that they wouldn't be able to run from this enemy. But what appeared through the trees was not an enemy at all! It was a black wolf, and atop her was none other than Ionwë – Almárëa's personal guard._

_Ishta skid to a halt in front of Randir and Almárëa, and bared her fangs in horror and surprise._

"_What happened here?" Ionwë demanded in his deep voice before he hopped off of Ishta and ran to Almárëa. Randir handed the princess over willingly and turned nervously toward where they had left the ogres behind. Faólân was tiring and he was worried that he might not hold on much longer._

"_Ogres," Randir said simply. "You need to get her back to the palace; I'll defeat the last of them."_

_Randir turned to disappear through the trees, but Ionwë's strong hand on his shoulder stopped him._

"_You are no warrior. You take her back; I will fight," he ordered. Randir shook his head._

"_Faólân is my wolf; I will not leave him behind. Almárëa needs medical attention that neither of us can give her. Take her back to the palace. I can take care of the rest of the ogres."_

_Ionwë did not let go of Randir. He held the younger ellon's dark gaze for a long moment before he finally released him._

"_Na lû e-govaned vîn," he said and held his arm out. Randir grasped it with a nod and once again turned to leave, but this time another gentler hand stopped him._

"_Randir," Almárëa choked out. Her head was spinning due to her wounds, but she had to tell him something. If only she could remember! "You cannot defeat them on your own."_

"_Almárëa, you have no reason to fear," he said softly. He placed his hand on hers and looked to Ionwë who reached forward and took the elleth's shoulders to guide her to Ishta. But when Randir began to walk away again, Almárëa shook out of his grasp and lunged toward Randir._

"_Randir, I need to tell you something!" she insisted._

_Ionwë stepped forward to pull the princess back, but Randir held out a hand. He turned and held Almárëa as she swayed from weariness._

"_Almárëa, you need a healer," he said firmly, but she just shook her head. He didn't understand that she needed to tell him something – it was important! But she could not even remember what it was that was so urgent. As she looked up at him she struggled to find her words, but her mind was so foggy that it seemed an impossible task._

_Randir's eyes softened and he tucked behind her ear a strand of her hair that had come loose from her braid. Even with the marks of battle on her features she was the most beautiful elleth he had ever seen. It made his heart soar to know that she did not want him to risk his life, but it was something that he had to do. It was either let Faólân die alone as he faced an unbeatable enemy, or take a stand with his partner and have a possible chance of escape._

"_I must go," he insisted. The despair on Almárëa's face felt like a shard of ice impaling itself in his heart. What was worse was that he knew he wasn't going to return. Ionwë had said, 'Until next we meet,' but they weren't going to meet. Not ever again. He didn't know what he could do to assure her so that she went willingly back to the palace, so he did the first thing that came to his mind. He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her, long and slow. At first he could tell that she was stunned, but she soon melted into his lips. Randir separated from her and whispered, "Go home. I will follow."_

_Before she could make any response, he turned and stalked away through the forest. Almárëa stared after him with surprise and horror. Never before had she realized her feelings for him, but that kiss awakened a burning passion inside her. She realized she couldn't let Randir face the enemy that she brought on him in the first place. However, as she took a step forward to go to him, her strength left her and her knees gave out underneath her. Before she hit the ground, she landed in Ionwë's strong arms and he lifted her off the floor._

"_Alright, my Lady, I think you have had enough excitement for the day," he scolded. He was often a father figure to her, and knew that the only way to keep her calm was to act like nothing was wrong. It worked, for the most part. She huffed and smiled despite her weariness._

"_I think I'll decide that," she answered and tried to slide back off of Ishta to get to Randir. Before she could, Ionwë jumped onto Ishta's back behind her and held the princess in place._

"_Noro!" he commanded Ishta. "Run!"_

_Ishta did not hesitate to take off in the direction of the city. She could feel how close her partner was to losing consciousness completely, and she could not allow that to happen. Her paws pounded on the ground at an even faster pace than when she ran to find Ionwë when she earlier realized Almárëa wasn't in their room._

_As they neared the gates of the citadel, Almárëa's focus was blurring in and out. She thought of Randir and all they had been through together, and she thought of how he always had to get them out of the trouble she put them in. For some reason, she knew that this time there was no getting out of trouble. Not when she was unable to tell Randir of the ogre's weakness. Almárëa gasped and her eyes stretched wide as she remembered what she so badly needed to tell Randir. He did not know how to defeat the ogres, but she did!_

_She sat up and said to Ishta, "Turn around!"_

_Ishta's ears swiveled back on her head and she growled, "Are you crazy?"_

"_Ishta, I need to go back. Turn around."_

_Ishta couldn't believe her partner's words, but she couldn't argue._

"_Ishta, keep on toward the citadel," Ionwë said before she could turn around. Almárëa's eyes flashed and she leaned forward to speak to Ishta in Narinos._

"_I am your kin, not Ionwë. Listen to me: turn around."_

_Ishta knew that she shouldn't. She knew that if Almárëa didn't get immediate medical attention she could die, but she could not argue. Despite her own will, she began to turn around. She would have gone through with it had it not been for Ionwë's commanding voice. He had more strength than Almárëa at that moment, and so even though he was not Ishta's kin, she found that she had to obey him over even Almárëa's command. Her paws turned once again to the city and she felt Almárëa's hands tighten on her fur. Suddenly, the pull was released and she felt Almárëa's weight lifted. She had jumped._

_But before her feet hit the floor, Ionwë grabbed onto her and pulled her back onto Ishta, though she was facing the wrong way._

"_Release me, Ionwë!" the elleth commanded in desperation. She tried to fight against him, but she was tired and his strength was far greater. She continued to struggle despite the fact, and soon tears were streaming down her face. Randir's only hope was her; she couldn't leave him! It wasn't long before she could not fight anymore and instead Ionwë held her against his body in a tight embrace as the reality of the situation settled upon her shoulders. Randir was not going to return; she was never going to see him again. And she could not do a single thing about it. As she buried her head in Ionwë's shoulder, she cried out his name in despair. She could see his body, lying broken on the forest floor, or possibly being devoured by the hungry, detestable ogres. The trees would be painted with his blood. The ground would stain red. The wind would howl with anguish across the treetops forever more. And it was her fault! Her hands were not covered in her own blood. They were covered in Randir's._

Suddenly, Lorelei sat up in bed with a shout. She didn't know what she said, but it didn't matter. All she could see was the color of Randir's blood as it spilled out onto the floor and stained the white room around her. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't hear anything. She was suffocating as the thick liquid was poured over her. She panicked and no matter how hard she tried to shove the memory out of her head, all she could feel was the stickiness of blood thick on her skin and in the air around her. Randir was dead. It was her fault. She killed both him and Faólân. If it hadn't been for her-

Before she could complete her thought, she felt soft, warm fur brush up against her hands and without thinking she groped for it. She wrapped her arms around it and buried her face into it, and she inhaled its scent. Slowly, Ishta's presence calmed her frantic breaths, but her wolf's comfort did not stop the tears as they flowed down Lorelei's face. She hadn't relived that horrible night for near seven hundred years, and the pain she felt when Randir's death was confirmed amplified by tenfold. Just like Randir, she had let Muzrad die. She could have saved both of them, but both times she failed. She failed to save two innocent lives that shouldn't have been in danger in the first place. She was an imbecile. She was weak. She definitely was _not _fit to be royalty or a warrior. How could someone as inept as her be born to such a magnificent race of elves?

"Lorelei," Ishta's deep, comforting voice pulled the elleth out of her despairing thoughts. "Lorelei, stop. What happened to Randir was not your fault. Do you hear me?"

Lorelei nodded, but did not let go of the wolf's neck. "But it _was _my fault. Without me, Randir would still be alive, and he would be living in peace. He would probably have a lovely wife and-"

"Enough!" Ishta barked. She cursed herself for ever bringing up Lorelei's first and only love. "That is in the past; you need to move on. Randir was killed by ogres, _not you._"

Lorelei flinched at Ishta's words, but could not accept them. She took a deep breath and slowly let go of the wolf.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "I just… I…"

Ishta sighed and nudged Lorelei with her nose. "Do not apologize. You were hurt and you're still in pain. It is my fault."

Lorelei shook her head. "No, Ishta it is not. I am the one to blame."

Ishta nearly bared her fangs at that comment. That's what it always was. It was always Lorelei's fault, and no one else's. Even if Lorelei had nothing to do with an incident, it was her blunder. Before Ishta could offer any words of solace, Lorelei turned so that her feet were hanging off the side of the bed where the nightstand was resting. Her weapons were all hanging haphazardly on the stand, and nearly fell off as Lorelei grabbed one of the swords in its sheath.

"I'm going to get some air," she said without emotion. "Go back to sleep."

"Lorelei," Ishta growled.

"I said go to sleep!" Lorelei commanded. Ishta bared her fangs. She hated how Lorelei always ordered her to do something that she didn't want to. Why did Lorelei always have to try and deal with her problems on her own? Why didn't she let her partner help her when she needed it?

"Fine," Ishta snarled and jumped off of the bed and onto the floor. She stalked over to the side of the room and flopped onto her side with her back facing her kin.

Lorelei's expression turned sad, but she didn't try to make amends. Instead, she stood and walked to the balcony connected to her room. The doors were open and she walked out onto the cool stone without a sound. She looked up at the sky and then around at the city below her. Her eyes locked onto a thick grove of trees off to her right that seemed to be covering up a lake. What she needed was a place she could talk to both Gaëaron and Isilmë. A lake would give her just that; it had both water and visibility of the moon.

Without looking back, she jumped down from the balcony and landed silently on the floor below. She just hoped that as she made her way through the city no one would see her; she couldn't bear to deal with any living creature at that time. She could hardly even bear herself.

* * *

_(A/N): One last quick thing to say... Gael Drake, the author I'm co-writing this with, has submitted her first story so you should read it because her style is a lot like mine, and you'll probably like it if you've made it this far in my story. Also, I posted this chapter at the EXACT same time she posted the second chapter of her story... in case you wanted to know, lol. That's all! Until next time~_


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